Rescue Me
by Predec2
Summary: Brian opens up a new ad agency in California and develops a new hobby in his off hours. Little did he realize that he would discover another passion in the process. *STORY IS NOW COMPLETE!*
1. Cruel Summer

_Justin discovers his father has a less than ideal job for him._

* * *

_Prologue_

_Tortoise Beach Resort, California - Early June_

My father barely glanced up from the business section of the local newspaper as I came trudging into the private dining room of the resort. "Your mother called you over fifteen minutes ago," he commented as he took a drink of his coffee.

"I was in the shower," I told him as I plopped down into the chair at the other end and grabbed a piece of toast to start buttering it. I slathered on some strawberry jelly, licking some of the sticky confection off my thumb as my mother set some scrambled eggs and bacon down in front of me. "Thanks, Mom," I told her as she smiled before taking her place next to me.

"Any luck finding a summer job?" Craig casually asked me from behind the paper.

I sighed, figuring that would be his opening salvo. I had been trying to obtain a job as a strolling caricaturist on the boardwalk approximately a mile down the road from our resort ever since high school graduation two weeks ago, but so far I hadn't been successful. My friend, Daphne, worked down at the boardwalk in one of the souvenir shops, and I knew from what she had told me that the tourists tipped the artists very well for their efforts. I was hoping to secure one of the highly-coveted jobs there so I could save up enough cash before I entered the prestigious Oceanside Art Academy in the fall to purchase a dependable, used car to get me back and forth. Despite my persistent efforts, however, and Daphne's enthusiast assurance that I was more than qualified for the job, all the openings for that type of work had been filled already, so my only hope was that one of the current artists would quit for some reason.

I knew my father could well afford to buy me a car, but I didn't want to be indebted to him. Besides, he was already upset with me over choosing to attend art school rather than enrolling at USC, where he had obtained his business management degree.

"Well, you won't have to worry about a job any longer," my father unexpectedly said as he lowered his paper to peer over at me. My pulse sped up in anxiety as I noticed my mom appearing a little uneasy, and I immediately became concerned; that was not a good sign. "What do you mean, Dad?"

"Well, you need a job and I happen to have one. You can't spend all summer long just drawing sketches of the beach or cleaning out the swimming pool. I happen to have the perfect solution for you, and you are more than able to do it."

I exchanged a wary look with my mother, who flashed me a sympathetic smile, before he dropped the bomb on me. "The resort's experiencing a severe shortage of lifeguards this year for some reason, and without enough of them I can't keep the beach open for our guests; that's very bad for business."

My eyes grew large in disbelief. I had undergone previous CPR and lifeguard training a few years ago when I had volunteered to help disadvantaged kids swim at the local Y as part of my graduation requirement at school, and I had kept up both certifications, but...

"You want me to be a _lifeguard_?" I asked him incredulously, my mouth hanging open. At least at the Y it had been indoors; I could only imagine how burnt to a crisp I would get languishing under the hot, brutal, summer sun as I sat in one of those wooden, lifeguard station chairs. I would have to wear a sunscreen lotion with at least a reading of 45 - and invest in a bucketful of it, to boot - if I had any hopes at all of not resembling a lobster with my light skin.

He nodded at me, his eyes boring into mine. "Why...is that so hard to imagine? You have the training, and you're living here anyway; rent-free, I might add," he pointed out. "Is the job beneath you, Son?"

I huffed in aggravation. "It's not that," I insisted. "It's just that..."

"Well, what, Justin?"

I silently seethed at his condescending tone of voice, almost like I was being a petulant child. My father never _had_ encouraged me to pursue my goal, deeming it to be non-sustainable financially and a foolish endeavor. What he failed to realize, however, was that it had been my dream, my passion, since I was practically out of diapers to be an artist, and I couldn't imagine any other career, no matter HOW challenging it might prove to be. "It's just that I wanted to find a job this summer that would allow me to take advantage of my artistic ability."

He snorted as I fumed. "Drawing pictures of the tourists? You can't make a living being a damn cartoonist, Justin, and I need the help. You're part of this family, and I expect you to contribute."

"Well, what about my being out in the sun for so long?" I countered. "You know how easily I can get sunburned." Even when I strolled out onto the beach to sit on a large boulder overlooking the crashing, ocean waves to sketch, I always made sure I had on plenty of sunscreen and a hat as a precaution. And I never stayed out there for more than an hour at a time. This would be completely different.

"Craig..." I could hear my mom starting to come to my defense, but my father held up his hand to stop my mother from speaking.

"Let me finish, Jen," he curtly demanded. "It's simple: you need the money, and I need a lifeguard. This place is finally starting to turn a profit, Justin, and develop a strong clientele, but if I don't have sufficient lifeguards I have no beach facilities to offer. And without a beach, I'm just another hotel. No one's going to come to a five-star resort and not expect to swim in the ocean. I will pay you the same rate of pay that the other lifeguards will be getting, which is a hell of a lot more than they would pay you down at that boardwalk," he insisted, even though he wasn't adding in the tips I would be making on top of my base pay. Without sounding cocky, I was blond, cute, and had a great smile, which would attract male and female patrons alike. Now, however, it didn't seem to make any difference. "And we have sun blocker at the surfer shop; you can take whatever you need, and there's a beach umbrella at the lifeguard station."

I sighed, knowing this was a battle that I wasn't going to win. I DID need the money, and at least he was going to pay me for it. I was surprised, frankly, that he didn't make me do it for free. "When do I have to start?"

"Tomorrow morning. You'll be working in the South Station near the surfing rental shop. I'll have one of the staff send your uniform over to your room later today, along with a key for the lifeguard shack where the gear is stowed. I'll be meeting with the advertising representative tomorrow over breakfast, so I need your word that you will be ready to start first thing in the morning."

I glumly nodded as I stabbed at a piece of scrambled egg with more vigor than necessary.

"Justin?" He prodded.

"Yeah, okay," I grumbled as he curtly nodded. Picking up the paper and hiding behind it, I was summarily dismissed now that he had what he wanted. My mother cast a sympathetic glance over at me before she, too, began eating her quickly-cooling breakfast.

* * *

_Thank you to my beta, boriqua522._


	2. The Warmth of the Sun

_Justin begins his first day as a lifeguard while Craig's advertising rep enjoys the fruits of his labor._

* * *

_The next morning..._

Brian stepped out onto the balcony of his top-floor corner suite and smiled, feeling the pressures of being a high-stakes advertising CEO quickly dissipating as he inhaled the salty fragrance of the ocean and savored the warm breeze caressing his toned chest and legs. He had to admit - this had to be one of the best perks of the job he'd ever been given: free room and board at one of the most exclusive, private beach resort clubs in the U.S. in exchange for preparing a new advertising campaign for its owner, Craig Taylor.

When he had first met Taylor a few weeks ago in his office, he frankly hadn't cared much for the man. He had found him to be pompous, arrogant, and abrasive. But he had to grudgingly acknowledge that he was also a savvy businessman, having taken an aging, tired, oceanfront property that was on the verge of bankruptcy, and managing to transform it into a thriving, posh, in-demand resort. Thanks in large part to his contacts in the electronics world, he had equipped the resort with the latest in technology. Each room was equipped with wireless internet, flat-screen, digital televisions, DVD players, and video game stations, along with recharging docking stations for smart phones and state-of-the-art, 'eco-friendly,' electrical sensors for all the fixtures. Each guest had the capacity of ordering room service by either their cellphone or through the television, and they could request other services, such as additional housekeeping supplies, with a simple request made through LCD screens imbedded into the nightstand table next to their beds, which were all equipped with memory-foam mattresses.

The entire refurbishing of the property had to have cost millions, but in the two years that Taylor had owned it, he had managed to turn a tidy profit with it through his business acumen. Now he felt it was time to tweak his marketing promotions, and his offer of staying at the resort for a week of sunbathing, pampering, and especially riding the waves was too tempting an invitation to resist.

Yes, even though his satellite office for Kinnetik had only been open for the past six months, and he had resided in California for approximately the same time, soon after arriving he had promptly been bitten by the surfing bug. While he could not yet afford to have a place of his own on the ocean, he managed to find a respectable condo within a block of the beach and discovered that he had a natural talent for surfing. A few, fairly short lessons later, and he was hot dogging it better than most of the veterans. He had even purchased his own surfboard and wetsuit so he could glide more easily through the waves. He had found that apart from clinching the latest, multi-million dollar deal, the next best thing was the thrill and exhilaration of catching a roiling wave and riding it until he reached the shore.

He inhaled the salty, ocean breeze again and smiled as he noticed the gentle lapping of the waves. He knew that was deceptive, though; he knew that later during high tide, the waves would be much higher, and he couldn't wait to get out there and try them out. The rocks that jutted out haphazardly in an almost artistic, random pattern were the perfect cataylst to make the waves higher and more challenging. Yes, just a little work on his part - and his graphics department back at Kinnetik - and he would be spending most of his time in the water.

For now, however, he had a breakfast meeting with the owner. Reluctantly turning away from the quickly-warming air, then, he walked back inside his suite and headed toward the shower to get ready, thankful that he could dress in something high-quality but casual. As soon as he was done meeting with Craig Taylor, then the real fun could begin.

* * *

_One Hour Later..._

"Hey, Baby!" Emmett Honeycutt greeted me with a fond smile as I entered the hotel's surfer shop. The well-appointed establishment - open to the public as well as the hotel's patrons - was one of the first enhancements my father had made as soon as he had refurbished the neglected resort, and it had wound up being one of his most astute investments. Its unique stock of one-of-a-kind surfboards, extensive surfing apparel, expensive, high-quality jewelry, lotions, and gifts, had quickly become the 'hip' place to go to find unique and highly-sought after items for surfers and wannabes.

"Hi, Em," I replied with a smile of my own. Emmett and I had known each other ever since the resort had been purchased by my father and Em had started hanging out around the place while it was being refurbished - partly out of incessant curiosity over what was going on, but also due to being laid off from one of the small, tourist shops in town and hoping he might eventually be able to obtain employment here. I had first encountered him while out walking along the beach a couple of times, and had quickly struck up a friendship with him, enjoying his quirky, friendly and fun-loving personality.

Eventually, Emmett had mentioned to me that he was looking for a job, and I managed to put in a good word for him with my father, who decided that the man's exuberance, if not over-the-top personality, was a good match for selling goods in the surfer shop. My father's judgment had proven accurate shortly thereafter when sales at the newly-opened shop began to quickly climb after its grand opening. Today, the surfer shop's profit was brisk, thanks in part to visitors from all parts of the country who sought it out whenever they came to California, but also through a multitude of online sales that were generated on a weekly basis.

I walked up to the counter; the shop had just opened for the day, so only a couple of early shoppers were in the store at the moment, looking over some of the surfer apparel over in the far corner.

"What brings you to my humble establishment so early?" Em asked me with a grin as he kept busy placing some copies of the morning newspaper into a nearby, vertical display rack. "If you want to pick up a big, burly surfer dude, I'd try after lunch when they come in to do some browsing of their own. That's when _I_ do my best 'browsing,' too," he said with a wink.

I rolled my eyes and laughed at him. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that Emmett was gay, too; it was pretty obvious by the way he almost frothed at the mouth whenever a good-looking guy walked into the shop. And with it catering to surfers, there were a _lot_ of fairly hot, toned and suntanned men who showed up on a frequent basis. Emmett often told me that it was definitely one of the best perks of his job. I was a bit more prone to be private regarding my sexual orientation, at least where strangers or acquaintances were concerned, but I had felt so comfortable being around him that eventually I had confided in him that I, too, preferred men to women.

"I'll keep that in mind," I told him with a grin. "But actually, I came in to get some sun blocker. My dad said I could pick some up in here before I go over to the South Lifeguard station."

Emmett frowned at me as he placed the last of the papers into their appointed slots and walked over to a nearby display holding all of the shop's lotions and other medicinal supplies. "Sure thing, Sweetie. But why are you going over to the Lifeguard Station? Especially the South One. That's where Eddie patrols." He shuddered. Eddie was a good lifeguard, but a total geek and a klutz - and the total antithesis of a "Baywatch" type of lifeguard.

"No worries there," I muttered as Emmett raised his eyebrows in question. "He's not coming back," I informed him as I began to pull my shorts down my legs in explanation, revealing the standard, cherry-red uniform of the resort's lifeguard staff that I had donned earlier in my room. I grimaced as I held my hands out to my sides. "Meet the new South Station lifeguard."

Emmett's eyes grew as large as beach balls as his mouth hung open. "You?" I nodded. "Baby, don't take this the wrong way. You're certainly adorable enough to save my life _any_ day. But aren't you just a little light skinned to be out there in that sun all day, every day?"

I sighed; Emmett wasn't the _only_ one who thought this idea was crazy. "Yeah...Seems like I heard that somewhere before," I couldn't help commenting dryly. "I said pretty much the same thing to my dad. That's why I'm here. His solution was for me to use a lot of sun blocker - and a big, beach umbrella. So as long as no one actually needs my help, I should be just fine."

Emmett couldn't help laughing softly at the look on my face. "I'm sorry, Justin. It's just that, well, if you looked like that and I saw you perched up there with that blonde hair blowing in the breeze and wearing a pair of those red lifeguard swim trunks - and if you just happened to turn around to put your umbrella up, too, so I could see the entire package; well, let's just say I'd FIND a way to 'need help.'"

"Em..." I blushed; I knew my friend was teasing me, but still... "You know I would help anyone that needed it, even if I do wind up looking like a lobster." I winced at the thought; I had had my share of sunburns before, and they could be quite painful, especially for someone like me. "I hope that doesn't happen, though." I sighed again. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought about looking for a good summer job, but I guess it's better than nothing at all."

Emmett reached over to hand me a high-factor sun blocker, knowing with my fairer skin I would need a strong one. "I know," he told me sympathetically.

I had shown him a lot of my sketches and had told him at length about my dreams of being an artist one day. He knew I had had my heart set on working up on the boardwalk during the summer. But he also knew how competitive those jobs were, and how I had struck out in my attempts to secure employment there.

"Well, that's the right attitude, though," he told me with a smile. "And I'll get to see you more often now." He paused, deep in thought. "Not sure if you'll get a very good tan, though. But look at it this way!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "You'll have a great view of all the tan, bare-chested surfers walking around the beach all summer long, and you'll have a front row seat to watch them catching a big wave while their muscles ripple in the breeze. So it's not ALL bad."

Hmm...I considered that for a moment before I had to smile. "Yeah...You do have a point there. At least the scenery will be pretty."

Emmett laughed as he handed me the tube of sun blocker and a large, liter-sized, cold bottle of water. "Just watch out for the sharks, Baby," he told me with a wink as he turned to wait on a customer walking up to the cash register. "Hang loose! Maybe we can meet for lunch."

I smiled with a nod as I picked up my shorts off the floor and walked back out of the store, heading toward the South Lifeguard Station located approximately fifty feet away. It consisted of a compact, wooden room on stilts with a small balcony just roomy enough to accommodate the lifeguard chair. A yellow rescue vehicle, along with some other equipment, was parked directly underneath the station; I could see the large, beach umbrella folded and propped up next to the chair as I squinted up into the bright sunlight.

"Sunglasses," I murmured in realization, recognizing one more piece of equipment I would definitely need. Rather than returning to Emmett's shop to pick up a pair, though, instead I decided to check out the small room above and find out what it did - or didn't have already. "Shoo," I muttered to the large group of seagulls congregated near the bottom of the steps, no doubt hoping I had some sort of breakfast for them. "Fuck off," I said to the pesky birds as I waved my hands back and forth. They finally moved a few feet away, but didn't seem all that afraid of me as I placed my sun blocker in my white windbreaker and began to climb the steps heading up to the lifeguard quarters.

Fishing in my discarded shorts for the key to the small equipment room, I placed it in the lock and turned the handle to take a look inside. There was a small cot in one corner, and a tiny double burner set up on a small wooden table, similar to a camping stove. There was also some miscellaneous gear stashed in another corner, such as a couple of fishing rods, a pair of wooden oars - no doubt left over from when the old owners had needed a rowboat for rescues rather than paddle boards - and a white, hard plastic first aid kit hanging up next to a small, self-contained area that looked like a closet. I walked over to swing the door open, surprised to see a half-bath there complete with a small toilet and a tiny sink. "All the comforts of home," I murmured as I shut the door back and began to search for the equipment I would need to keep at the ready just in case of emergencies. I quickly located the paddle boards, rescue rings, tubes, and buoys in a small, wooden chest in the far corner, and some beach towels in a cabinet. I had to scrounge around a little harder before - to my relief - I discovered a decent pair of sunglasses packaged inside a black, leather-like case in one of the narrow drawers underneath the first aid kit, along with a pair of binoculars and a whistle on a string.

"Great," I mumbled as I slid the whistle over my neck, feeling distinctly silly for some reasons. "I can either be a high school basketball coach or a pervert now."

Walking over to sit down at one of two, folding, wooden chairs ringing a small, circular table, I took off the windbreaker and sleeveless shirt I had been wearing to protect me from the sun and opened up the lotion to being applying it liberally to every exposed part of my body. Taking a sip of water, I peered out the windows overlooking the beach and noticed some resort guests beginning to appear in their customary surfer gear or in swimsuits, getting ready for another day at the ocean. Making sure to grab both my water bottle and the lotion, along with the binoculars, I headed back out onto the balcony, placing the items down on one of the chair's arms as I unfurled the large beach umbrella and secured it in the proper hole behind the chair for whatever shade I could find.

Hoisting myself up into the lifeguard chair, I instantly rose back up as the bare skin of my back encountered the already heated wood of the chair. "Shit!" I yelled as I jumped back down and stomped into the shack to snag a large beach towel to drape it over the chair. Sighing, I finally sat back down a few minutes later, feeling like the chair was swallowing me whole. "This is going to be so much fun," I muttered sarcastically as I slid the sunglasses on and began my patrol.


	3. Surfin' USA

_Brian wraps up his business with Craig, leaving him with some much-desired leisure time. While he's out playing in the sun, he finds a 'different' sort of sun to play with. But will they mesh or clash with each other? _

* * *

Craig rubbed the back of his neck as he peered down at the last part of Brian Kinney's advertising campaign. So far he had been impressed with all of Kinney's ideas - they were contemporary, bold, and perfect for the age demographics he was hoping to impress during the upcoming tourist season, and he could see his resort using the same advertising for next season as well, which would save him quite a bit of expense. But this last part had him bothered.

He stared down at the photos of several deeply tanned, muscled surfers apparently wearing nothing but a shit-faced grin and a surfboard strategically placed crossways or diagonally, right over their groin. Either they had nothing on at all, or the photographer had done an excellent job of disguising it, because the impression was that they were definitely in the altogether. Above the photos of the surfers were various sexually-themed captions, such as "_Wanna Ride_?", "_I'm Hard as a Board_," and "_Where the Big Boys Play_."

He let out a terse, agitated breath between his lips as Brian sat quietly next to him, his hands folded together on top of the breakfast table. The two of them had been given the separate, smaller-sized room that ran off the main dining room of the resort, expressly constructed for private business meetings for those guests who wanted to conduct some actual business while they enjoyed some of the resort's other features. "You want me to advertise my resort to the gay market?" Craig questioned. "We have children that come here, Mr. Kinney."

"And?" Brian prodded, as if he didn't see the connection. "Gay people have children, too. I happen to have a son myself," he confided to him with just a hint of pride. He would have never thought it would happen in a million years, but his son was an absolute joy to him; one of the few ways he found to actually relax when the stress began to get to him. He only wished he had the opportunity to see him more often; it was difficult, though, being in two different countries and several thousand miles away.

"Yes, I'm sure some of them do," Craig countered stiffly. "But a lot of my typical guests here can be very conservative, Mr. Kinney. I don't think this type of behavior will set too well with some of them."

"_This type of behavior? _And just what 'type of behavior' would that be, Mr. Taylor?"

"You know," he mumbled. "Lewd behavior. Skinny dipping. Sex orgies."

Brian laughed. "You mean straight people don't participate in that, too?"

"Well..."

Brian sighed, wondering if this had been such a great idea now. "Look, Mr. Taylor. I've been in this business for over ten years now, ever since I graduated from Carnegie Mellon. And I'm damn good at what I do; you know that. I pride myself on always knowing what the current market is looking for, and what the trends are; if I didn't, I wouldn't have survived in this cutthroat business. This resort's state-of-the-art amenities are precisely what the upscale, gay market is seeking, along with seclusion, elegance, top-flight service, and, above all else, acceptance. Because if they aren't treated properly, or if they aren't welcome here, they will go somewhere else and you will risk losing tens of thousands of dollars in sales as well as receiving so much negative publicity that nobody with a speck of tolerance will want to visit your establishment. Now you can try and go it alone and have your high, upstanding morals pay your bills while you find another agency who will feed you a crock of bullshit about what you do or do not need...Or you can trust that I know my job and make you and your resort a shitload of cold, hard cash as a result. So what's it going to be?"

"Well...I'm not...it's just that..." Craig rubbed his face with his hand; for once, he wasn't sure _what_ he was trying to say. He was still uncomfortable around queers - even though he had known for about a year now that his only son apparently counted himself in that group, much to his consternation - but when it came down to it, he thought that Kinney was, indeed, an astute adman and had good instincts. He had to grudgingly agree that the ideas he had presented so far were innovative, creative, and even brilliant, and he seemed to have a wide range of knowledge and expertise when it came to advertising. So far he had no reason to doubt that he didn't know exactly what he was talking about. If he thought catering to this market was a good business decision, then he suspected he was right. He had invested a great deal into this resort; it was turning a tidy profit now, but it would take some time - and plenty of business - to recoup what he had spent. He was well-read when it came to the local paper and all the business periodicals, as well as several online hospitality websites, and he _had_ seen a trend toward promotion to the gay and lesbian market. Perhaps, then, Kinney was right.

He sighed. "And just where would you utilize these promotions?" he asked quietly as he peered down at the risqué ads. "I'm assuming these would not be in mainstream magazines."

"Hardly," Brian replied dryly. "They would be geared to several gay-themed newspapers, websites, and magazines. And also to a few, select, high-quality men's publications that have been known to cater to a wide proportion of the male gay population."

Craig studied the graphics a little while longer before he finally nodded. "Okay...I imagine you know what's best..."

"I do," Brian told him confidently as he played with one of the navel oranges lying in a wooden bowl on the table. "You publish these and I guarantee you - they'll be practically knocking down your door to get in - and then you won't care _who_ they fuck."

Craig winced at the crass term, but he nodded again with a sigh. "All right, then. Do it," he told him curtly as Brian nodded back at him.

"So...Our work is done?" he asked.

"Yeah," Craig replied as he continued to study the most controversial of the ads. He took a deep breath before peering over at his company. "These will appear in the next available issue of all the publications?"

Brian nodded. "Yes, I'll make the arrangements and send you a breakdown of the expenses before we proceed."

Craig nodded as he took one last sip of his coffee and stood up. "Very well," he told his visitor. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Kinney, I have a resort to run." Brian stood to join him as they shook hands. "I trust your suite is satisfactory? The corner suites are our most popular ones because of the double-sided view."

Brian smiled. "Yes, very satisfactory. I have to say the view here is spectacular - and the technological advances you have in place in this facility are amazing to say the least."

For the first time, Craig smiled back at him, proud of what he had accomplished. He knew it was the very best that money could buy - and he was hopeful that with Kinney's innovative approach to advertising, it would soon pay off in spades. "Yes, they are," he agreed. "I spared no expense to make sure of that. Let's hope your advertising campaign helps me to recoup some of that expense."

Brian nodded. "It will," he promised confidently.

Craig nodded. "Well, time will tell. In the meantime, all your expenses are on the house, Mr. Kinney. If you need anything, feel free to contact the front desk. They have already been advised that you are here at my invitation, so if you run into any issues, feel free to contact me; you have my cell number."

"Thank you," Brian replied politely. "I can't wait to check out the waves here; they look phenomenal."

Craig's eyebrow lifted in surprise. "You surf?"

Brian grinned. "Yeah - it's my guilty pleasure; well, at least one of them. You might say I'm making up for lost time, having been landlocked in Pittsburgh until six months ago."

Craig nodded as he turned to go. "Well, be careful out there; the waves can get pretty rugged at times, especially around high tide. I'll see you before you leave at the end of the week?"

Brian nodded. "Yeah, I'll give you an update before I check out." Craig gave him one more nod before he left. Brian felt like a weight was lifted from him. He had completed his part of the bargain; now he had six and a half more days to just sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labor. Smiling more broadly now, he began to walk out of the room, only to almost run into the waiter coming back in to clean up his and Craig's breakfast dishes. He was dressed in the hotel's serving uniform of tight, black pants, a long-sleeved, white shirt and a black vest with a name badge that said his name was Mark. He had dark, almost black straight hair that came to just below the nape of his neck and was on the slender side, but well-toned and had a pair of full, pouty lips that made Brian's cock twitch in notice.

"May I get you anything else, Sir?" the waited inquired as he stood next to Brian while he looked him up and down.

Brian smiled his most seductive smile as the waiter blushed. "As a matter of fact there is.." He hooked his finger under the man's vest and began to pull him toward the men's room located nearby.

It would be another thirty minutes before he finally found his way back to his hotel suite to get ready for some other type of 'leisure activity.'

* * *

_One Hour later...Justin's POV_

I took another gulp from my now lukewarm water bottle before I picked up my binoculars to study the crowded beach and the ocean, now teeming with bikini-clad women and men wearing everything from speedos (I had to wince at a couple of old geezers apparently reliving their youth who were seemingly stuffed into a couple pairs of them) to regular swim trunks to shorts to the more serious beachgoers who were wearing full-fledged, surfer body suits. It was always very easy to spot the residents from the visitors - all you had to do was look at their tan - or lack thereof. The ones that looked like polar bears were the ones who had obviously just arrived and were in severe need of some spray-on tan, while the ones who had golden tans were long time sun worshippers.

And then, of course, there were the fools who stayed out way too long in the sun and wound up sporting burns that rivaled the color of my lifeguard trunks. Those people were the ones I found it hard to sympathize with; after all, by the time they got to THAT color, they had to know they were getting a serious burn - and possibly skin cancer to boot. But they insisted on staying out in the unforgiving sun anyway. I sighed; I had already treated one person earlier for severe sunburn with my first aid kit. And while I certainly didn't wish anyone ill will while I was on patrol, I secretly hoped that something more exciting than applying an aloe balm to an old woman with more wrinkles than a circus elephant would happen; _anything_ to make what was shaping up to be a boring summer a little more exciting.

As if the fates were listening to me, I placed my binoculars down as my eyes swept over the nearby beach until I saw Emmett waving at me frantically before he gestured toward something with his index finger. I frowned as I prepared to jump down from my perch to see if someone needed assistance, but Emmett shook his head and clearly mouthed the word "no" before he pointed again at something - or someone - coming my way. I finally looked down to see what in the world he was trying to show me, and it was then that I realized exactly what Emmett was trying to point out to me as my eyes honed in on a golden-skinned, tall brunet, carrying what appeared to be a brand new, yellow-with-red flames surfboard tucked under his arm. "Fuck," I whispered in awe as my eyes widened at the way the man moved so gracefully barefoot, even in the unevenness of the fine, light brown sand.

He was wearing a pair of mirrored, aviator sunglasses, and his brown hair, windswept and tousled-looking, shone with subtle splashes of auburn under the sun's relenting rays. He was obviously a serious surfer as judged not only by the expensive surfboard he was toting, but also by the appearance of his expensive, designer, matching, black, rashboard shirt and compression shorts, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination in front - and I had a very vivid one spring up just then of enjoying an exposed view of that particular part of his anatomy, standing out and proud for my perusal. I felt perspiration break out on my forehead that had nothing at all to do with the air temperature as I envisioned being 'attended to' by this god of a man's long, tapered fingers currently clutching the surfboard, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining him.

A fly could have flown into my openly gaping mouth as I sat there at my station, transfixed on what had to be the most gorgeous specimen of man I had ever encountered in my life as he walked closer to me and I held my breath. Just as he was about to pass by me, out of my range of vision, something made him look up and he stopped to peer up at me as our eyes locked together. A distinct smirk appeared on his lips just then as my face promptly turned as red as the woman who I had tended to earlier with the sunburn.

Then he spoke to me - and his voice sounded exactly like I thought he would - smooth as liquid and just a little sultry, even though what he said to me was anything but.

"Save any lives yet, Dudley Do-Right?" he asked me with one cocked eyebrow. He lifted his sunglasses to squint up at me and I groaned softly as I felt myself promptly blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. "I hear he always gets his man."

"Huh?" I finally responded rather unintelligently as he had the gall to laugh at me. I glared down at him over his reaction as he rolled his tongue into his cheek.

"Never mind, whistle boy," he quipped back at him. "I've got a wave to catch anyway. Later," he flippantly dismissed me as he turned and continued on toward the water.

Despite my annoyance, I unashamedly snatched the binoculars from the arm of my wooden chair as I hastily removed my sunglasses and aimed it toward my object of interest. It took me a few seconds to locate him, but once I did I found that I couldn't take my eyes off him; there was just something about the almost regal way he carried himself as he walked - not to mention the lightly-muscled, bronze-colored skin and the angles of his body - that set my heart ablaze. I watched as he walked into the water with the board beside him until he was approximately chest deep before he agilely hopped on top of it and began to swim out toward the largest waves. I watched, fascinated, by the way the sun reflected off the taut, tanned skin of his back and how the muscles mimicked the movement of the waves around him as he used his arms to paddle further and further out from shore. He bobbed up and down gently as the waves hit him and the board until, with a look behind him toward a particularly impressive wave quickly approaching, he raised himself up to an upright stance and expertly positioned his feet apart on the board for maximum balance. I watched as he began to shoot the curl like a ballerina elegantly performing her routine, leaning perfectly so as he could successfully ride the wave all the way toward shore, and I found myself completely mesmerized by it all. Suddenly my rather tedious day was beginning to look much more promising.

* * *

Brian's face broke out into a triumphant smile as he rode the wave, loving the feel of the warm sun on his face and the water splashing all around him. As he headed toward shore, it wasn't hard to locate the hot lifeguard he had encountered a few minutes earlier, still sitting in his makeshift throne at the top of the lifeguard station nearby. He waggled his eyebrows and openly leered at him as he noticed his binoculars trained upon him; at least, it certainly looked that way. And why shouldn't they be? He could certainly understand why he would be the center of attention. As if he hadn't known for sure before, he now strongly suspected even more that the cute, little, "Mountie Man" was definitely on the same team as he was. He gave the blond a little, royal-like wave and grinned back at him to acknowledge his ogling, noticing him immediately putting the binoculars down and grabbing his sunglasses to put them back on as if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar while the blond twisted his body away from him to look at another part of the beach. Brian laughed as he continued to ride out the wave, a plan formulating in his mind for later after he was done playing in the water. After all, he had to find ways to entertain himself on land as well...


	4. Catch A Wave

_Brian relishes in his most passionate of hobbies, but which one is it? Surfing...or driving the cute, blond lifeguard crazy? Molly's birthday party will give rise to some surprises of its own._

* * *

Brian had a goofy, beaming smile on his face as he looked quickly over his shoulder to see the monster wall of water rushing toward him. High tide was soon approaching, and this one had to be the biggest one yet. There was just something about mastering such a powerful force of nature that gave him in incredible high; almost an even bigger one than roping in a multi-million dollar account.

Leaping upright onto his surfboard just at the perfect time, his heart began to pound and adrenalin rushed through his veins as he bent his knees slightly and rode smoothly on top of the curling wave, feeling both exhilarated as well as in total control. "Yeah!" he couldn't help pumping his arm and screaming out over the sound of the water surrounding him. _This is the life, _he couldn't help thinking. He had to have been born a surfer in a previous life somewhere, because short of closing a big deal for Kinnetik, there was nothing else quite like this. He was glad he had finished up his obligation to Taylor, because now he had the rest of the week to do nothing but enjoy the sun, the surf, and some other 'leisurely' activities. That thought made him think of one particular blond he wouldn't mind doing a little 'exploring' with later today... In fact, ever since he had run into the lifeguard earlier, all sorts of intriguing possibilities had been sprouting up in his mind. The waiter had been doable, but not particularly satisfying. He wanted - needed - more. And there was something about that particular, slender little blond that appealed to him for some reason.

Scanning the beach as he rode his wave in, he noticed to his disappointment that the lifeguard chair was presently empty. Where the fuck had he gone; wasn't he supposed to be watching the beach for shark attack victims or someone who ingested too much seaweed or something? What kind of lifeguard was he? He groused. With his sunglasses currently hung on a cord around his neck for safekeeping, he rode his surfboard toward shore, squinting to look among the burgeoning crowd for the current object of his desire, but he was nowhere in sight.

Finally, however, he spied someone with bright, blond hair and red swimming trunks bent over, picking something up off the beach, and as the man rose up straighter and Brian confirmed who he was, his eyes went bug-eyed at the perfectly rounded, pert little ass practically winking back at him. _Holy shit_, he murmured in appreciation...just before the surfboard slipped out from under him and he lost his footing to go tumbling into the water.

* * *

_Same Time...Justin's POV_

"Everything's going to be okay," I assured my companion as I stooped down to peer into her troubled face. With her chubby little cheeks, curly blond hair and pink, two-piece swimsuit with ruffled skirt, she was positively adorable, and my heart went out to her a few minutes ago when I had seen her standing there a few feet away from my station, clutching a bright green, plastic sand pail with tears running down her cheeks.

I had hopped down from my chair, actually relieved to finally have a reason to stretch my legs a little, as I went up to her and stooped down to ascertain what was wrong. Through hiccups and sniffles, I had finally discovered that she had gotten detached from her mother somewhere and was feeling understandably scared and lost. It had taken me a few minutes to figure out where she had last seen her - over by the hot dog stand a few hundred feet away - but by the time I took her hand and began to walk with her toward the concession stand in search of her mother, an anxious-looking woman who bore a striking resemblance to her came rushing up to us.

"Is that her?" I asked the little girl as I pointed at the woman; the little girl broke out into a big cry of "Mommy!" before she went rushing into her arms. I smiled in relief as the woman walked up to me, the little girl now safely held against her chest.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for her! I turned around for a just a couple of minutes to get the hot dog, and she must have wandered off somehow. I was so afraid that she had gone into the water; she can't swim yet. That's why I was coming to find a lifeguard."

I nodded. "Well, I'm just glad that she's okay," I told her, wanting badly to tell her next time to watch her child a little better but holding my tongue. Instead, I politely reminded her," It's very crowded here today. It's easy to get detached from someone, even for just a few seconds."

She nodded contritely. "I know. I'm sorry; I won't let her out of my sight anymore," she promised as I nodded back at her. "Come on, Honey; I've got our food over there," she told her, indicating a towel several yards away. I smiled as the little girl turned around in her mother's arms and gave me a shy smile and a wave of one chubby, little hand as I suddenly noticed she had left her pail behind. "Wait!" I cried out as I picked the pail up. "She forgot this!" I called to the mother as she nodded and thanked me as she retrieved it and handed it to her daughter. As they walked away, the loud crash of the waves behind me made me turn around, just in time to see one of the surfers take what appeared to be a bad tumble off his board as my heart pounded in alarm.

I took off at a dead run toward the surfer, watching anxiously for any sign of him coming back up in the water. I could see the surfboard bobbing up and down nearby, riding in with the wave.

I didn't even have time to grab any rescue equipment as I ran toward where I had last seen the surfer fall. Wading, then swimming against the current as I hurried as fast as I could through the water, I came up for air frequently as I swam so I could spy the surfboard now heading toward shore and use it to help guide me toward where the man had last been seen. My previous training - and several hours of swimming in the resort's pool for exercise on a frequent basis - had honed my arms to where they were surprisingly more powerful and stronger than they looked as I used them to quickly paddle toward the surfer's last-known location. I managed to latch onto the surfboard in case it was needed as I swam up to it, using it as a flotation device so I could look around a little easier for the victim. _Where was he? _ Finally, I spotted a dark-haired head about ten feet away from me, bobbing up and down in the water. I could see the guy was conscious; he was thrashing around in the water as I got closer to him. "Stay calm!" I yelled out to him over the waves. "Everything's going to be okay!" It seemed like as soon as I spoke, however, something happened, because he seemed to be pulled under the water and then came back up, his body now floating lifelessly on top of the surface.

"Fuck!" I yelled out as I swam as fast as I could over to the man. Had something attacked him? As I came up beside him, I dragged him to the surfboard and managed somehow to hoist him over onto his back to examine him more closely. My heart threatened to stop as I immediately recognized him as the surfer who had spoken to me earlier. I forced myself, however, to stay focused as I felt his wrist for a pulse and to my relief detected a strong, steady beat; I could also observe no apparent injuries. I could see his mouth slightly parted and his chest rhythmically rising up and down. "You're going to be okay," I told him, although at that moment I had no idea if that was true or not. "Just hang in there." Actually, I was scared out of my fucking mind. Once I had rescued a kid from the deep end of the municipal pool when he had gotten spooked over being in such deep water and I had to go pull him out. But this was completely different. This man wasn't moving at all; just lying there on the board. How did this guy go from being conscious to seemingly unconscious in a relative blink of an eye? I couldn't see any bruises or bites on him; in fact, he was gorgeous looking. Even soaking wet he looked amazing, I decided, as I admired the smooth, flat, golden skin and the classic-looking face... _Get a grip, Justin!_ I chided myself instantly as I shook my head in disgust, clutching the edge of the board as I began to paddle as fast as I could toward shore.

Fortunately, the surfer hadn't been that far from the beach when he had wiped out, so while it seemed to take forever to get back to shore, in reality it was more like five minutes before I reached shallower water.

A crowd of people stood at the shore's edge, watching the drama taking place, as I finally heaved the surfboard to shore, exhausted over the exertion. Fortunately, my worry over how to get the guy onto the beach itself was solved relatively quickly when another lifeguard - an older, deeply wrinkled, grizzled veteran who went by the odd name of Zipper and was tanned to almost the point of being brown - rushed up to help me drag him onto the sand and lay him down onto his back. A group of gawkers stood approximately 15 - 20 feet away as he examined him.

"Is he breathing?" he asked me as I nodded and placed him onto his side to make sure there wasn't any water in his lungs that needed to be expelled. Feeling the heated stares of several people nearby, I leaned down in front of the man's slightly-parted lips to confirm that he was still breathing, placing my hand on his upper arm to brace myself, when all of a sudden I wound up with a hand gripping the back of my neck and my lips firmly plastered against his. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was happening before, with a sputter of indignation, I pressed my palm against his chest and gave him a rough shove away from me, causing him to flop softly down onto his back. His hazel eyes fluttered open and twinkled mischievously back at me as he waggled his eyebrows and smiled.

"What...What the hell do you think you're doing?" I growled, my face warming over all the attention I was receiving.

"I needed some mouth-to-mouth," he deadpanned with a shrug of his muscled shoulders as everyone tittered and my face turned a deep shade of red that threatened to match the color of my swim trunks. Even Zipper chuckled beside me as the now clearly-uninjured man propped himself up on his elbows and smirked back at me with a distinct sort of "_Gotcha_" look on his handsome face.

"Well, I never...I thought you were...How could you..." The words slipped out as a jumbled mess, and despite the presence of children nearby, I couldn't help telling this moron (albeit gorgeous moron) just what I thought of him. "You _asshole_! I thought you were really hurt! How could you do that?" I huffed loudly as I rose to my feet and began to stomp back toward the lifeguard station, the laughter from everyone nearby ringing in my ears. I even heard a few of them clapping - _clapping!_ - as I hurried back toward my post as quickly as I could.

Apparently not quickly enough, however, because just as I placed my hand on the wooden railing to ascend back up to my chair, I felt someone grab my upper arm and twirl me around. My heart pounded as I saw my 'victim' standing there facing me. He sure recovered quickly enough.

"What the hell do you want? You've had your little fun! Now leave me alone!"

He had the audacity to chuckle. "Aw, come on, Gidget, it was just a joke!" he replied with one side of his mouth quirked up. "Are you that uptight?" His eyes swept down toward my groin as I cursed my body's reaction to him. _Damn man. _ "Yeah...I bet you ARE tight; uh, I mean, _uptight_."

I frowned at the odd name as my face flushed; I had no idea why he was calling me "Gidget," but I decided by the sarcastic way he was saying it that it had to be something demeaning and derogatory, which just made me even angrier. My eyes flashed in irritation as I glared over at him. "Go find some other amusement," I told him as I turned my back to him. "I've got work to do."

A low whistle of appreciation sounded behind me as I rolled my eyes, but I chose to ignore it as I ascended the steps back up to my 'perch.' After I sat back down and took a swig of my water, I peered down at the man, who was still standing in the same, exact spot with that exasperating smirk back on his face. "Well? Show's over!" I told him. "Go find some other stool pigeon to fool."

He laughed. "You're pretty hot when you get all riled up," he decided, hands on his hips as I harrumphed. "You get a lunch break, Gidget?"

"What's it to _you_? And what happened to Dudley Do-Right?" At least being interested in animation graphics, I was familiar with the name of the famous cartoon Canadian Mountie, and that one nickname was somewhat complimentary, unlike the other one.

He grinned up at me and shrugged. "Well, I don't know your real name, and I like Gidget better," he told me mysteriously. "If fits - well, except for the feet," he decided as he cast his eyes downward toward my unadorned feet, currently clad in a pair of lime-green flip-flops. "You know what they say...; if you have big feet, then you must have a big..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, the heat rising to my cheeks as I cursed myself for how easily I could be affected, at least by this sexy stranger. No, actually, I _hadn't_ heard that saying, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where he was heading with that one. "Just go, will you? I'm working here!" I deliberately didn't look at _his _feet. That was one part of his anatomy I hadn't focused on yet, but I suspected if I did, they would have to be gargantuan, then, at least if what he was intimating was true...

He downright chortled in glee this time at my reaction as he smiled up at me. "Well, I'll find that out some other time," he told me. "Later," he dismissed me as he placed his mirrored sunglasses back on and headed over in the direction of where I had left his surfboard. Visions of whacking him over the head with it appeared in my mind as I yelled back, "There won't _BE_ any 'later'!" With a backhanded sort of wave, he soon was swallowed up into the crowd, and once more I was left alone. "Arrogant asshole," I muttered as I folded my arms across my chest, but my heart was pounding just the same.

Despite his less-than-stellar manners, when he had stood there just now, eyeing me like a juicy piece of meat, it was all I could do not to imagine what it would feel like to have his lips plastered to mine in a _real_ kiss, and to have his lean, trim body pressed against me as we rocked together in the throes of passion. And those eyes - it was the first time I had had an opportunity to study his eyes, which seemed to change from a green to a burnished gold at a moment's notice. His bronze-colored skin set off his eyes perfectly, and his upper arm had felt taut and lightly-muscled under my touch. Hell, everything _about_ him was perfect - except for his manners.

"Aaargh!" I growled as I reached for the tube of sun blocker to reapply it to my body. If I didn't wind up with sunburned skin after this, I would be damn lucky. After I finished, I picked up the binoculars lying beside me and pretended to be searching the beach and ocean for anyone in need of my assistance, but deep down I knew what I was _really_ doing as my eyes easily spotted the other man carrying his bright yellow surfboard toward the water as if he didn't have a care in the world. Sighing, I put my sunglasses back on and turned away from where he was to resume my patrol.

* * *

_Late Afternoon..._

"Thanks," Brian replied as a deeply-tanned, blonde-haired female resort employee handed him a paper ticket similar to a coat-check or valet parking stub. It listed identification information that he would need in order to retrieve his newly-acquired surfboard later. There was a small, fenced-in area behind the store where resort guests could either rent surfing equipment or leave their own property for safekeeping. It was yet another special benefit that Craig Taylor had installed at the resort, and it was one more convenience that had helped to make his establishment stand out among all the others.

As Brian trekked the short, wooden walkway back up to the hotel, he noticed Craig Taylor sitting at one of the back patio tables near the swimming pool, shaded by a large, aqua-colored umbrella and sitting with an elegant-looking blond woman and a strawberry-blond haired, young girl. They were all sipping drinks with some typical, tacky, miniature umbrellas stuck in them as he approached them.

"Brian!" Craig greeted him with a smile; he seemed more at ease this afternoon than he had been during their morning breakfast meeting. "Have a seat, and come and join us," he urged him. "I'll order you a drink."

"Thank you for the invitation," Brian told him politely as he shook his head. "But I think I'm going to head up to my room for a while." He had been surfing for several hours now, and the exertion - along with the brutal sun - had made him tired and drowsy. As feeble as it sounded, he wanted nothing more right then than to head up to his room, relax in his suite's Jacuzzi, and then lie down for a while before he went in search of something for dinner. He had had nothing for lunch, and was quickly getting hungrier by the minute. His hope of meeting a certain blond for lunch had, unfortunately, not materialized.

Craig nodded as the woman and young girl eyed him curiously. "Oh, I'd like you to meet my wife, Jennifer, and my daughter, Molly. Jen, Molly, this is the man I was telling you about who's creating the promotional campaign for the resort - Brian Kinney."

Brian nodded over at the two females as he reached to grasp Jennifer's hand. "Mrs. Taylor." He turned to the young, freckled girl sitting next to her and smiled. "And Ms. Taylor." Molly giggled at his formality as he couldn't help grinning back at her.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kinney," Jennifer told him in a cultured, soft voice. "Craig's been raving about what you came up with for the resort. He's very excited about the business he thinks will be generated from it. He's very impressed." She couldn't help studying the tall, handsome man standing before them, noticing his apparel. "You surf?" she asked with a smile.

He nodded. "Yes," he confirmed, brushing some sand from his arm. "I've only lived here in California for about six months now, but it's sort of a guilty pleasure of mine, you might say."

She nodded back at him. "Yes, Craig tells me that you're originally from the Pittsburgh area?"

He nodded. "That's right. Lived there all my life until recently."

"I guess this is quite a departure, then, from what you're used to."

He nodded at her with a smile. "Definitely. But I prefer the warmer weather...And I love the ocean." He paused as a waiter came over with another drink for Craig. "Well, it was nice meeting you and your daughter," he told Jennifer. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Uh, Brian? Why don't you join us for dinner later? We're celebrating my daughter's 13th birthday tonight with surf and turf. Our chef makes the best filet mignon anywhere in the state," Craig informed him with just a hint of pride.

Brian was a little surprised by the offer, having gotten the impression earlier that his client wasn't too ecstatic about the promotion he had created toward the gay market; apparently, though, Taylor must have had a change of heart - or at the very least realized how lucrative that campaign could be. If nothing, he was an astute businessman. "I don't want to intrude on a family occasion," he told him, although steak and lobster did sound appealing. And he had heard about the filet mignon here, although he had not tasted it yet. That was one thing Pittsburgh tended to excel in over this state; he had yet to find a good steakhouse. He had heard, however, that this resort came the closest to good quality steak, and he had wanted to try some of it.

"Nonsense," Jennifer gently chided him. "There's more than enough room, and there will be way too much food. You would be doing us a favor by helping us to eat it."

"That is, as long as you get there a few minutes before our son does," Craig added with a grin. "He can eat like a horse."

"Craig," Jennifer chided him with a gentle laugh. "Justin does have a good appetite," she told Brian. "But I'm sure there will be plenty. Please say you'll join us. Six-thirty?"

Brian finally nodded. "Okay. In the main dining room?"

She shook her head. "Actually, we'll be in the private dining room where you and Craig met earlier this morning for breakfast," she advised him as he nodded.

"Sounds good," he told her as he turned to go. "I'll see you at six-thirty, then." He nodded at the group before he headed toward the rear entrance leading into the resort.

"Well, he seems like a nice man," Jennifer murmured as she watched him go. "Awfully young, though, to be heading up a multi-million dollar ad agency."

Craig nodded as he took a sip from his new drink. "Yeah, but I checked out his credentials, and they're legit," he told her. "And you saw his ideas; very up-to-date and creative. Although I'm still not too sure about part of it. This whole thing about wanting to be with someone of the same sex..." He had told her about Kinney's ideas toward gearing part of their promotion toward a gay demographic; but Jennifer had actually decided that it was a brilliant idea.

"Craig, I thought you had accepted Justin for who he is," she said quietly. "How is this any different?"

"I do," Craig told her stiffly. "I have. But...It's still hard to come to grips with, Jen. I mean, women with women and men with men? It's just not..._natural_. And I'm not sure that some of the other patrons are going to appreciate that sort of thing."

Jennifer glanced over at her daughter before she replied, "Perhaps we should discuss this later in private."

Molly sighed heavily in exasperation. "Mom, for Pete's sake, I'm not a baby. He's gay, not from another planet! Sheesh. So this Mr. Kinney wants to advertise the resort in the gay community? I think that's a great idea! They have money just like everyone else, and I've never seen any _other_ hotel ads welcoming them. Just think of all the business we'll get."

Jennifer quirked one side of her mouth up in amusement. Their daughter always had been too perceptive for her own good. She reached over to grab Craig's wrist before he had a chance to say anything he might regret. "And just how many gay magazines have you seen, Sweetheart?" she asked her daughter with one eyebrow raised in question.

Molly's skin almost flushed to match her hair as she admitted in embarrassment, "Well...none." Craig let out a sigh of relief. "But there's the internet. The travel sites, I mean," she hastily added as her parents gave her a wary look. "I just haven't run into a lot of them - that's all. I think he's got a good idea," she finally concluded. She furrowed her brow as a possibility occurred to her. "Hey, I wonder if he's gay, too. Is he married?"

Craig growled, flustered. "How would I know? That's none of my business - or _yours_."

Molly shrugged. "I know; I just think he's good looking. I just thought that if he was gay - and not attached; well..."

"Molly Elizabeth Taylor," Jen sternly scolded her. "He is much too old for your brother. Don't you even go there," she warned her as Molly huffed in disappointment.

Craig eyed his daughter incredulously. "Are you out of your mind, girl? You just get that out of your head right now," he told her curtly.

"But you said that you..."

"That's not what I meant," Craig told her. "I just mean your mother's right; he is much too old to even consider that possibility. Now I expect you to keep that idea to yourself when he comes for dinner tonight, do you understand me?"

Molly rolled her eyes as she played with the paper umbrella in her virgin daiquiri. "Yes, Sir," she finally replied glumly as Craig nodded back at her.

* * *

_Same time..._

Emmett smiled over sympathetically at me as he locked up the surfer shop for the day. "Baby, you look beat," he told me as I walked up to him.

I sighed as I brushed my hand through the top of my head. "That doesn't even begin to cut it," I admitted. "I never thought just sitting up there on patrol would be so exhausting. It must be the sun beating down on me all day long. Even with the shade, it was hot as hell up in that chair."

Emmett nodded at me as he appeared to look me over studiously. "Turn around," he told me unexpectedly as I frowned at him.

"Huh?"

He smiled as he motioned with his hand for me to do as he asked. Shrugging, I turned around, twisting my head backward to see if I could tell what he was looking for. "What?" I asked him curiously.

He explained as I turned back around, "Just checking to make sure you weren't sunburned anywhere."

"I don't feel like I am," I replied. "Am I?"

He shook his head and smiled. "No, not that I can tell."

I nodded as I let out a deep breath. "Well, it was incredibly boring up there all day," I told him. "The most exciting thing was a little girl who got lost."

"Oh, really?" he said with an eyebrow quirked at me. "That's not what _I_ would say."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"I saw your little rescue of the stud out there earlier," he explained, clearly enjoying himself as my face turned red.

"That was NOT a 'rescue,'" I told him brusquely. "The asshole faked the whole thing. He wasn't hurt at all."

"I know," Em told me with a smile. "I noticed. Have to give him brownie points for having balls, though. Yes, he is an asshole, but he's one, damn, sexy asshole, though, wouldn't you say?"

I bristled as I placed my hands on top of my head in aggravation. The last thing I needed was to be reminded about him again; he was the only thing I could think of for the past several hours as it was. "Em, stop! I...I wasn't paying attention to that. I was just doing my job."

"I guess sucking face with him didn't allow much time for ogling up close and personal." He teased me.

My face reddened even more. "I had nothing to do with that! He did all that on his own. That was HIS idea."

He laughed at me. "You poor baby, being mauled like that. I got a good look at him when he came in earlier to buy that fancy surfboard he wiped out on. Shit, he is one fine-looking specimen of man. I wonder if he's staying at the resort?"

I sighed as I turned to head up toward said resort, my friend following along beside me; shit, I hadn't even thought about _that_ possibility, but it was a very large resort with both suites and free-standing cottages sprinkled throughout several acres. What would be the odds of running into him, then, even if he WAS a guest? I didn't even want to think about that likelihood. "Em, can we just find another subject to talk about...please?"

"Sure thing, Sweetie," he told me with a smile as we stepped up to the wooden walkway. "Oh, by the way; I ran into your dad at lunchtime. He told me to remind you about your sister's birthday dinner this evening."

I groaned; after the long day I had experienced, the last thing I wanted was to do that. I would have much preferred to just go up to my room and collapse onto the bed after a nice, hot shower. But I knew for Molly's sake I had to go. I nodded as we entered the back patio surrounding the swimming pool. "Thanks for reminding me," I told him. "Did he say what time?"

Em nodded. "He said six-thirty downstairs in the smaller dining room."

I sighed. "Right." We entered through the back entrance to go our separate ways, Emmett having a two-room suite in the employee's wing to the left and my suite located on the right. "Well, I'd better get upstairs, then, and take a shower. Maybe I'll have time for a short nap," I replied hopefully.

He squeezed my shoulder. "Hang in there, Baby," he told me. "And when you go to bed tonight, you can dream of giving your mystery hunk some more CPR."

"Bye, Em," I told him sternly as he laughed at me. Shaking my head, I headed toward the elevators.


	5. I Get Around

_Justin makes a shocking discovery when he shows up for Molly's birthday party. Just what will the 'dessert' be?;) _

* * *

I felt somewhat better after taking a nice, long shower, but I was cutting it much too close to catch any shuteye. So, instead, I concentrated on getting ready for Molly's party and securing the present I had for her. It may not have been what she was seeking, but I hoped she would like it just the same.

I scrounged through my closet, relieved at least to know that my father would be satisfied enough with me wearing something along the lines of a slightly upscale, but still casual and comfortable type of clothing for dinner. After all, it was just going to be the family and we would be in the private dining room, so I knew it wasn't necessary for me to get too dressed up.

I finally settled on a pair of dark gray linen slacks, black leather shoes and a short-sleeved, royal-blue polo-style shirt. Tucking it in and adding a simple, black, leather belt, I combed my hair into place and spritzed on a small amount of the good cologne that my mother had given me for Christmas last year. Shrugging as I examined myself in the mirror, I decided I was presentable enough for a family birthday meal as I grabbed my gift for my sister and proceeded out of my suite and down the hall toward the back steps that led to a separate entrance for the private dining room.

* * *

Dressed in a pair of black, linen slacks, black Armani loafers, and a maroon-colored, silk, long-sleeved shirt open slightly in a "V" pattern at the neck, Brian carded his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, giving it an attractive, carefree-type look as he walked down the hall toward the dining area for dinner. That morning, he hadn't noticed all the watercolor landscapes and the candid charcoal portraits lining both sides of the hallway, but since he was a few minutes early, he paused to admire them as he headed toward Molly Taylor's birthday dinner.

He noticed they were all signed by the same artist - someone with the initials of "JT" - and were quite good. Each subject on the drawings seemed to jump off the paper, the details incredible and so realistic. He could make out each wrinkle in an old woman's hand, each lush eyelash in a baby's smiling face, and every thread of a colorful beach towel that a German shepherd was lounging on at the beach. No part of the portraits was left unfinished or hastily done.

The brushstrokes on the watercolors were expertly applied, mainly using ocean pastel tones of aqua, peach, and light blue for most of the beach scenes. One, however, was vastly different and caught his eye immediately. It was a painting of a surfer in profile, perched on his board, feet planted apart and knees bent as he caught a giant wave. The look of ecstasy on his face was immediately recognizable to Brian: it was the same look he had whenever he caught a big wave. This watercolor, unlike the others, was cast in sweeping shades of dark blues and blacks, contrasting dramatically with the stark, white color of the waves cresting and the light-colored sand of the beach. A lighthouse was drawn in the far left corner, one that Brian recognized from his many trips out to catch the waves earlier today.

He stood there for several minutes, admiring the painting, until at last he realized it was getting late and he turned to leave, making a mental note to ask Taylor about the artist later.

Walking into the main dining room, he spied the hostess from that morning standing behind her station and nodded at her, receiving an interested smile in return. He was used to such displays wherever he went, even though he knew she was wasting her time.

"Good Evening," she greeted him, flicking her hair back and tucking it behind her ear in an obvious flirting gesture. "Table for one?" she asked politely, hoping to glean some information out of the handsome man.

Brian shook his head. "No, actually I'm dining this evening with Mr. Taylor and his family for his daughter's birthday," he explained.

She nodded with a smile. "Of course. Right this way, Mr...?

"Kinney," Brian told her smoothly as she nodded, filing that away for later use. She held out her hand in a silent gesture for him to follow before he shook his head. "It's okay; I'll just work my way back there," he advised her. "I had breakfast there this morning, so I know the way."

The woman hid her initial disappointment as she nodded. "All right. If there's anything I can do for you, though, don't hesitate to ask."

Brian smiled. _Don't hold your breath_, he silently thought. "Thank you," he told her aloud as he threaded his way back to the separate dining room leading off from the main room. He wasn't exactly looking forward to attending a teenager's birthday celebration, but he figured he could tolerate it for a while at the sake of maintaining good business relations with her father. Tomorrow, though, and the rest of the week, he vowed, was going to be strictly pleasure; lots and lots of pleasure.

* * *

_Justin's POV_

I glanced at my cellphone, noticing I was running five minutes late. I could just imagine my father's displeasure over what he would perceive as a social gaffe, even though it was just family tonight. Actually, my tardiness was not my fault. I wound up having to stop long enough to help guide an elderly woman that was depending on a walker over to the elevators. She had seemed so unsteady on her feet as she entered, however, that I impetuously decided to accompany her all the way down to the main floor - one floor below the dining room floor -and help her over to the lobby where she was meeting her son. By the time I did all that, it was inevitable that I would wind up being late.

"Well, fuck it," I muttered as I grasped Molly's present and walked briskly down the back stairways toward the private entrance leading to the smaller dining room, hoping my father would be in a decent mood. I knew he was supposed to meet with that ad agency representative earlier this morning; I only hoped he wound up liking what he heard, because it would probably make all the difference in whether he was in a good or a bad frame of mind.

Inserting the key card into the slot, I pushed the handle down and entered, blinking a little at the difference in the brighter light. In the back of my mind, I realized there was someone else in the room besides me and my family - I could make out a dark-haired man sitting with his back to me at the table - but I focused, instead, on making my apologies and catching my breath. "Hi, Molly!" I greeted my sister with a smile as she smiled back at me. "Happy Birthday!"

I turned to my father, knowing I would need to hurriedly explain my faux pas. "I'm sorry I'm late," I added as I stood there a little out of breath. "I...I had to help out an elderly lady in the elevator so she could get down to the main lobby."

My father's initial look of disapproval regarding my tardiness slowly transformed into understanding (fortunately) as he nodded. "Well, come in and sit down," he told me. "And I'll let the wait staff know that we're ready for the first course." He rose from his seat, apparently in search of the waiter, as he added, "In the meantime, your mother can introduce you to our guest."

I nodded as my father turned around and headed toward the main dining room; walking closer to the table, I peered over at my mother with one eyebrow arched in curiosity. I was under the impression it was going to be strictly a 'family-only' occasion tonight.

My mother smiled affectionately at me. "Honey, I'd like you to meet Brian Kinney, your father's advertising representative," she told me as I nodded. As I approached the side of the table nearest me, the dark-haired man turned to look at me and my eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets as I realized who it was. I didn't need an introduction, even though this was the first time I had actually heard his name.

The man's face broke out into a pleased smile as he replied, "Well, if it isn't Gi..."

"Justin Taylor," I hastily supplied, knowing exactly what he was going to say. And while I still had no idea what he meant by that, I had the distinct impression that it was not exactly an affectionate term. I thought about adding the obligatory 'nice to meet you' after my name, but first of all, we had already met, and second of all, at that moment I wasn't sure if that pleasantry applied to him or not.

Kinney stuck his hand out to shake mine as I was forced to accept it. As we touched, my entire body temperature seemed to rise at least one degree by each second that he held onto my hand, and I could feel an electric current almost running between us. After several seconds, I finally managed to pull my hand away, both relieved as well as surprisingly disappointed, as we stared at each other.

"Do you two know each other?" Molly had to ask (of course) from her place at the other side of the table. _Brat - she always did pick up on everything. _ I had learned at an early age that if you didn't want any particular piece of information to get out, best make sure your younger sister was out of the house first.

Fortunately, I was spared having to explain as he replied, "I saw your brother out at the beach today by the lifeguard station, placing baby pelicans back in their nests and kissing boo-boos on little scraped knees."

I rolled my eyes. "I did not," I told my mother and sister as Molly giggled at the look on my face. "I take my job very seriously."

"I can attest to that," Kinney replied smoothly with a smile; I had to turn away from that handsome, cocky face. "He was all business out there." I could hear the unspoken words after that. _Way too much business. _But it was all his fault.

My mother nodded as my father came back into the room. "Did you introduce Brian?" He asked my mom, who nodded. "Well, then, have a seat, Justin; dinner's about to be served."

I looked around for another empty seat besides the one right next to our 'guest,' and found to my consternation that there was none. _Damn it_.

My father frowned as he sat down next to my mom. "Justin, have a seat," he repeated a little more curtly this time as I finally nodded back at him and slid the chair out next to Brian Kinney to take a place at the table. I placed my small, gift-wrapped box down next to me as a brief, uncomfortable silence prevailed.

"Is that for me?" Molly finally piped up. _Like I said, don't say - or do - anything in my sister's presence unless you want it broadcast._

I nodded as our father told her she could open it after dessert. I had to smile at her disappointed expression before I finally decided I needed to attempt to make some polite discussion with our 'guest.' "So, uh, Mr. Kinney; my mom says that you're the person working on the new advertising campaign for the hotel?" I asked as I turned to look into his eyes. Damn, up close they were even more amazing - like both light green and gold dueling with each other in the same iris.

"That's right," he said as I tried furiously not to focus on his lips now. I could feel my face warming as he stared at me, and I felt even hotter as he added, "And, please, since I feel we know each other already, call me _Brian_." He said his name like a song, soft and silky.

I took a deep breath, feeling everyone's attention on me as I managed to mutely nod. I wasn't sure I could speak at the moment, anyway, but fortunately I was saved from finding out as my father spoke up.

"He's done a damn good job on the promotion, too," he said with a smile. "I wasn't sure I wanted to take some of his advertising where he wanted it to go, but the more I did some research into it afterward, the more I realized that he's quite savvy in wanting to focus on the gay market."

I gulped. Did my father actually just say what I thought he said? "The gay market?"

"Yes," Brian answered for him as he turned to look at me. Like a heat-seeking missile searching for its target, I lifted my eyes to stare into his as he said, "One of the most affluent demographics on earth right now; at least for the hospitality industry. Wouldn't you agree...Gidget?"

I groaned as everyone's eyes looked at me from across the table. "Uh...yeah, I guess so," I finally managed to say. "I hadn't really thought about it much."

Of course, Molly noticed what he said right away. She giggled again. "Did he just call you Gidget?"

"Uh, Molly, it's nothing, it's just for..."

"Yeah," Brian quickly replied with a broad smile, obviously enjoying my discomfiture. "I didn't know what his name was earlier, so I started calling him Gidget. He kind of looks like one, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes and let out a huff as my sister giggled again and my parents eyed me with extreme curiosity. _Great_... I raised my water glass and took a large gulp, thinking it was going to be a very long night.

I also knew that I would definitely have to research what that name meant later tonight, although I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

* * *

The rest of the evening progressed fairly smoothly with polite, non-controversial conversation and a tasty meal, followed by a small, chocolate cake with cherry icing made especially for Molly by the resident chef of the resort.

After coffee had been served with the dessert, it was time for my sister to open up her presents. I had to admit I was both a little surprised - as well as secretly impressed - that Brian had actually brought my sister a present. It was a small, gold chain with a matching gold dolphin on it. As my sister raved over it, my father explained how Brian had called him on his cellphone earlier to ascertain what my sister's interests were. Upon determining that she loved dolphins among other things, he had gone to the trouble of purchasing the necklace from the resort's gift shop for her. I had to grudgingly acknowledge that his gesture had been a very considerate one, and Molly was delighted with her gift, asking our mother to place the piece of jewelry around her neck where she now wore it proudly.

As the evening progressed, I let my guard down just a bit as events proceeded rather uneventfully; when it came time for Molly to open up her present from me, she was a little confused when she opened up what appeared to be a DVD of a movie she already had, only to find a folded-up drawing inside that depicted a scene from one of her favorite films that I would be using as a basis for a mural I would be painting on the wall above her bed. When I explained what it was, she got so excited over the prospect that she actually scooted back from her chair and rushed over to me to wrap her arms around my neck and give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Justin!" she screamed in delight as I smiled.

"You're welcome, Flipper," using my pet name for her. I laughed as she huffed in reply before taking her place back over at her seat.

All was silent for a moment before Brian quietly asked me, "I noticed several paintings and drawings hanging up in the hallway out there. Those weren't done by you, too, were they?"

I nodded as a look of respect seemed to appear on his face and he replied, "They're damn good; especially the one of the surfer."

"Well, I'm sure Justin would love to let you have it, then," his father replied politely as I blushed at the unexpected compliment. I couldn't help feeling just a little smug, too, that an outsider had actually noticed that I had artistic talent. _Take that, Dad..._

I smiled sweetly over at him as I replied meaningfully, "Yeah...I'd _love_ to let you have it."

Brian smirked at me. "I bet you would," he answered so low that only he and I heard what he said. A little louder, he added, "I'll be more than glad to pay for it."

I would have liked nothing better than for him to 'pay for it,' but I knew my father would have none of that, so I replied instead, "No. It's yours. You can pick it up on your way out when you leave," I told him.

"Speaking of which," he said unexpectedly. He smiled over at my parents as he told them, "The meal was great - and I appreciate being invited to your birthday, Molly," he told my sister, who was eating up all the attention she was getting from our handsome guest, kind of like a pet getting praise from its owner. "But I'm kind of beat. I think I'll head back up to my suite now. I was out surfing most of the day and took a tumble when I was shooting a curl."

"Oh!" my mother exclaimed in surprise. "Did you get hurt?"

"No; not really; just banged up a little," he replied convincingly. I couldn't help snorting incredulously under my breath over his audacity, not as quietly as I had thought, because my parents turned to peer over at me curiously.

I scooted back from my chair and stood up, trying to ward off any awkwardness. "I think I'm going to head back up to my suite now, too. I have an early patrol tomorrow."

My father nodded. "Good idea. How did today go?" he asked me.

"Okay," I told him. "Kind of boring, actually. Had one woman who needed minor treatment for sunburn and a little girl who got separated from her mom." I paused before adding, "Oh, and there was this clown who pretended he was hurt just to get attention." I turned to stare directly over at Brian before I added, "There's always one in every bunch who likes to be the center of everyone's universe. But he wasn't hurt at all. Just showing off for his _admirers_."

Before my father could make me elaborate on my statement, I turned to my sister. "Happy Birthday, Molly. I'll start painting your mural this weekend." She smiled at me and nodded before I turned to go, relieved to be finally dislodging myself from an uncomfortable situation. Brian Kinney could go his way and I could now go mine.

"Mr. Kinney," I acknowledged Brian formally with a nod as he stood there with his mouth partly open; no doubt wondering what glib comment he could make in response to what I had just said. I thought I was safe from any further verbal sparring with him, however, when he remained silent as I reached the door, only to hear my mother call out, "Justin? Why don't you take Mr. Kinney up the back way with you and spare him the trouble of waiting for the public elevators? You know how slow they can be." I cringed, my back to everyone, as I heard her add, "And be courteous and go get that painting that Brian wanted of yours, too, okay?"

I closed my eyes briefly before composing myself. _I can do this, I can do this, _I kept repeating in my mind as I turned around and pasted a smile on my face. "Sure, Mom," I said as I ignored Brian's heated stare on me as I passed by him - giving him a perfect view of my ass - before I quickly walked out and leaned against the wall of the main dining room, taking a deep breath. How could one man be so aggravating and intriguing at the same time?

"Oh, no," I murmured, horrified, ignoring the curious stares of dining patrons nearby as I heard my sister asking Brian if he was 'married or had a boyfriend.' I had to admit that I found myself holding my breath for his answer as I heard him reply politely that he wasn't - right after my mother softly chastised Molly for even bringing it up. Why would I care about that, anyway? "Aargh!" I muttered as I pushed myself off from the wall and went in search of my painting.

* * *

Returning a few minutes later I walked over and placed the framed piece of artwork in his hands. I felt a certain sense of pride as I saw Brian studying the painting with an almost awed expression on his face. I wasn't quite sure why that would make a difference to me, but oddly it did.

I cupped my hand over my mouth as I let out a big yawn; the sugary cake, in addition to the heavy meal beforehand, was adding to my feeling of tiredness. "I'm going to go up now," I announced to no one in particular as Brian pushed back from his chair and stood up to join me.

"Mr. Taylor, Mrs. Taylor..._Ms. _Taylor," Brian drawled like Rhett Butler, making Molly blush like, well, like a schoolgirl. "Thank you again for dinner; my compliments to your chef; my steak was cooked perfectly," he told my father as he nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Brian," my mom said with a smile as Brian nodded. It was obvious that my mother was thoroughly charmed by him now. Why was I not surprised?

Brian peered over at my father to advise him, "You have my cell # if you need me."

My father nodded. "Go enjoy yourself," he told him. "You've more than earned it," he admitted. "And feel free to contact the front desk if you need anything. Justin can help you, too, if you need it."

I turned red as Brian peered over at me and responded in what sounded like a sultry tone of voice (at least to me), "I'll...definitely keep that in mind." Bidding everyone goodnight, he turned to follow me out the rear door that led into the hallway.

As soon as the door was closed and we were alone, I leaned against the wall and spun around to face him, almost knocking both him - and my painting - off balance in the process. "Why didn't you tell me you were having dinner with my family tonight?"

He shrugged. "I didn't _know_ you were part of the Taylor family, Gidget."

"Don't CALL me that!"

"Why? You don't even know what it means...Do you?" he challenged me, one perfectly-manicured eyebrow raised in amusement. He clutched the painting in his left hand as he used his other one to brace himself against the wall next to my shoulder, leaning in so we were facing each other and only inches apart. I found myself trying to remember how to breathe as I stared into his face.

"Well...it's...I'm sure...It can't be..." I sighed in frustration. _Very glib, Taylor_, I silently chastised myself as I groaned inwardly at my lack of speech. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not _complimentary_!" I finally spat out, glaring at him as he laughed.

"Go ahead!" I growled. "Laugh at me! I really don't care, you moron!"

Brian grinned. "I'm not laughing _at_ you, Gidget, I'm..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know how the spiel goes," I told him as I reached up to push his arm aside so I could leave; I found that his arm was a lot stronger than it looked, though, as he continued to hold me captive against the wall.

"Do you mind?" I groused, my eyes flashing in irritation. "I'm tired and want to go to bed." My eyes widened as he leaned in impossibly closer now, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face. "It's...It's your fault that I'm so tired anyway."

"Really?" he whispered, seemingly pleased by that statement for some reason. "How's that?"

I was finding it a little hard to concentrate with his eyes boring into mine, but I managed nonetheless to remind him, "Well, you're the one who was playing hotdog out there and faking that injury."

He scoffed. "I didn't realize how strenuous that was on you. Want me to show you what strenuous really means? I can tuck you into bed," he offered, leaving no doubt exactly what he meant by that.

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cock rebelling against me at the thought. "No, thanks," I told him, secretly proud of myself. "I think it'd be way too crowded in my king-sized bed with you, me, and your ego."

He chuckled then, catching me a little off-guard; it seemed to even make his eyes light up as he smiled. "Well, if you're sure..."

I finally managed to shove his arm out of the way, noticing he still didn't budge from his spot facing me, however. "I'm sure," I told him as I tried to sidle past him, sucking in a breath as our groins brushed together. My heart jumped, however, as he grabbed me by the upper arm to hold me in place just before I could manage to escape. "What are you doing? Let go of me!"

"You still owe me some mouth-to-mouth," he told me as his eyes darkened. He licked his lips subconsciously and continued to stare at me before he finally murmured, "Fuck, you are so..."

"No...No, I don't owe you anything," I whispered hoarsely before he could complete his thought, but my body was saying just the opposite of my mouth as he smirked in realization. "Let me go..." This time my entreaty was repeated with a lot less conviction, however, and I found my eyes lowering to his cranberry-colored, slightly parted lips just before I felt his mouth on mine.


	6. Wipeout

_The back-and-forth parrying begins! But which one will come out on top? (figuratively speaking - ha!)._

* * *

His lips were surprisingly soft, whisper light and tentative at first as I felt his hand grip the back of my neck to hold me still, his fingers splayed in my hair. I stood there frozen, my hands to my sides as the kiss slowly began to evolve into something deeper and more probing as he applied more pressure against my mouth. Unable to help myself, I moaned softly into the kiss, feeling all sorts of emotions combatting inside me, which allowed his tongue just enough room to dart out and slide sensuously across my bottom lip.

The next thing I knew his tongue was pressed into my mouth and I began to feel like I was spiraling out of control as my hands reached out to slide up the smooth fabric of his shirt, coming to rest on his shoulders to grip them as I tried to stay steady on my feet. I had experimented with boys before while in school - mainly in the changing rooms out back by our high school's Olympic-sized pool after swimming meets or practices - but my infrequent and casual trysts with them compared to nothing like this. This was like skiing through a treacherous mountain pass without any poles, as opposed to trying out the bunny slope with a bunch of octogenarians. This was far more frightening in its intensity, but also way more exhilarating.

I heard the dull thump of my artwork being dropped to the floor just before Brian came up for air, just long enough to emit some sort of possessive growl as he plastered his lips back onto mine. This time, however, there was nothing gentle or tentative about it. It was both primal and territorial. The pressure on the back on my neck increased as he pushed our bodies even more impossibly closer; the next thing I knew his other hand had reached around to boldly grip one of my ass cheeks, and I found myself unable to even move my hands from his shoulders as I was locked tightly into place like some linen-wrapped mummy.

He ground his hips against mine as my breathing threatened to stop, thrilling at the sensations rushing through me as I sensed the obvious indication of his desire for me. But I couldn't help fearing instinctively that he was toying with me like a cat would play with a mouse before it was callously tossed aside for another prey. That disconcerting thought gave me just enough strength to do what my body didn't want to do, but what my mind told me that I must, as I did a sort of 'body shove' and dislodged myself from his grasp.

I could see the look of stunned astonishment on Brian's face as I broke off our kiss, managing successfully this time to use the element of surprise to push him away from me. I could feel my lips tingling from the result of our encounter - actually, my entire body tingling - as I tried desperately to regain a normal breathing pattern. I could only imagine what my hair and clothing looked like at the moment, since his hands had been roaming all over me just a few seconds ago.

I straightened out my clothes as best I could to try and regain some modicum of dignity as I told him coolly, "It's late, Mr. Kinney, and I have an early day tomorrow," as I turned to head down the hallway, leaving him standing there with his mouth gaping open like a big fish. I imagined someone who looked like him wasn't used to being rejected - and I couldn't believe I was doing it myself - but for the sake of my self-worth, as well as my own sanity, I kept walking, not wanting to turn around and look at him for fear I would promptly change my mind.

I was hoping he was going to just remain standing there, shell-shocked and mute, before I heard him speak up behind me after a few seconds. "You can walk away, Justin, but it won't solve anything. I know you're attracted to me," he said confidently. "And the name's Brian, too, by the way, in case you're forgotten."

_How could I possibly forget that? _I said to myself. The fact that he actually used my real name this time caused me to stop and turn around as I told him, "We have nothing to resolve...Brian. I won't be anyone's one-time _vacation fuck." No matter HOW damn hot you are_, I thought silently to myself, as I turned around to go.

"Who said you were?" he called after me.

I turned back around; noticing Brian had moved a little further toward me, but still too far away to catch up with me. "We hardly know each other," I pointed out before I shook my head at the irony. "Hell, you didn't even know my NAME until a couple of hours ago! What makes me believe that you would really want to get to know me before you fucked me, then?"

Brian slowly advanced closer to me as I stood my ground. "I don't remember offering."

"You didn't have to," I told him with more confidence than I actually felt; inside I was scared as hell. "It was pretty obvious."

Brian stopped in the hallway several feet away as he arched one brow at me. "Oh, really? You're a mind reader now in addition to an artist?"

I bristled at his flippancy. "Come on, Brian! Do you really think just because I'm blond that I'm stupid, too?"

Brian sighed. "I didn't say that, Justin."

I shook my head. "This conversation is getting us nowhere," I interjected; realizing I suddenly was feeling exhausted - both physically as well as emotionally. "You...You can reach your suite through there," I told him, pointing over to where the hallway split into two different directions. My father always kept his non-paying, 'on-the-house' guests in a particular wing of the hotel, down the left from where our cluster of family suites was located, so I figured that Brian's suite had to be among those, probably the corner suite if I guessed correctly. That's where he placed the guests he was trying to impress the most, and something told me that Brian would expect nothing less. "Goodnight, Brian," I told him coolly as I turned and headed purposefully down the hallway toward my own suite, not daring to look back now.

Thankfully, I didn't hear any footsteps behind me, so I knew he wasn't following me. I refused to turn my head back around to see exactly where he was as I placed my card into the slot and pushed the door handle to enter. But as soon as I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes, raising my fingers to trace over my swollen lips from where we had kissed earlier. I could hear the soft ticking of a nearby clock and my elevated breathing in the stillness of the suite as I took deep breaths to try and calm my erratically beating heart. I half-expected to hear a knock on my door at any time, finding myself a little surprised as well as disappointed that I didn't, before I turned and headed down the short hallway to my bathroom, deciding I needed a nice, hot soaking in the Jacuzzi to try and soothe my nerves.

* * *

_Next Morning_

"Good Morning. Time to wake up. It's going to be a beautiful day. Good Morning. Time to Wake up. It's Going to be a beautiful day..."

I groaned over the insipient woman's voice droning on and on...why had my father thought it was such a great idea to have an audio wakeup call programming feature for the hotel? At least it had ONE advantage...

"Shut the fuck UP!" I yelled at it as the voice went blissfully silent. At least 'she' understood THAT directive.

I reluctantly turned my head and opened my eyes, wincing at the blast of sunshine already streaming into my room; was it time to get up already? I had tossed and turned all night, images of a certain, sexy brunet constantly invading my dreams to the point where I had awakened earlier to my sheets soaked and my body sweaty. I kept imagining all sorts of things I could be doing with Brian, some of which I was personally familiar with and some of which I was not but had always fantasized about.

I raked my left hand through my hair as I yawned and pulled myself up to sit against the headboard of my bed. I could smell the coffee already brewing in the kitchen down the hall, thankful that my father had installed the ability to preprogram so many functions at the touch of a few buttons in each of the suites (well, at least except for that damn woman waking me up). After my shower, coffee was always the next thing on my list of 'must-haves' each morning, and I knew today I would need it most of all.

Showered and dressed in my standard lifeguard apparel a few minutes later, I gulped down the last of my coffee as I looked around for where I had left my sun blocker, whistle, and sunglasses previously. Grabbing my keycard and my white windbreaker, I finally remembered I had left them on the small, circular table near the front door.

Heading over to retrieve them, I saw a white envelope lying near the entrance, rubber-banded to a slim DVD case that must have been slid under the door. Bending down to retrieve it, I turned the case over to see what it contained. I snorted then as I finally realized where my nickname must have come from: It was apparently the name of some hokey-looking surfer movie from the time of the caveman, at least from the look of the girl on the cover. "_Gidget Collection,_" I read as I looked at the three names of the movies on the front. I could see one of them depicting a girl on a surfboard, apparently practicing on top of her mattress in her bedroom.

"Maybe I should start calling YOU Gidget, Surfer Boy," I huffed. After all, _I _wasn't the one always on the surfboard.

I still didn't understand why he was comparing me to this girl, though, except for both of us being blond-haired. Resolving to find out before I left for patrol, I pulled the tucked-in flap of the envelope open to read the note written in bold handwriting on a piece of the resort's stationery:

_Don't skip lunch today. How about we eat something together? 1:00. And by the way, you're not a 'Gidget' where it really counts. ~B_

What was THAT supposed to mean? "How flattering," I mumbled as my curiosity got the best of me. Pulling my cellphone out of my jacket pocket, I pulled up my internet browser to search for the term 'Gidget,' finding it listed under the urban dictionary as:

_1. A movie from 1959 with Sandra Dee about a girl who has boy troubles and over the summer discovers surfing and love. _

Surfing and love; that was rich. "Oh, brother."

There was also another definition underneath that one that read:

_(adj)-very cool, awesome_

"Hmmm," I thought as my eyebrows rose and I considered that meaning; I could certainly live with that one, although something told me that's not how he was using it. I skimmed the rest of the information on the site, noting some other, not-so-complimentary ones that followed:

_To pull a Gidget: To sleep with a girl who is younger than you by more than 5 years_

"In your dreams," I told him with a snicker.

And then there was this very 'flattering' one:

_A Gidget is an over grown midget whose height is from 4'11-5'1/2. _

"Hey!" I couldn't help responding. He'd _better_ not mean that one. I wasn't THAT short.

And then I came to the last one:

_A contraction of the words gibbled and midget; used to define a person who is humorously lacking in intelligence and/or co-ordination._

I grinned. "That one fits you to a tee," I quipped, unable to chuckle a little at that. I sighed. The man was certainly an enigma, worrying about me eating in one breath and then attaching a not-so-ego-boosting pet name with the other. One thing I knew, though; I would be pretty much a captive audience if he chose to show up on the beach later today; it wasn't like I could run off and hide somewhere. I had meant it earlier when I told him that I took my job seriously; it may not be the one that I had hoped to have for this summer, but I realized the responsibilities that came with it, and as long as I was performing those duties, I meant to do it the right way.

Placing the DVD and note down on the table, I scooped up my equipment and headed out the door.

* * *

I trudged through the sand toward my lifeguard station, stopping for just a moment to acknowledge Emmett who was dragging a stainless steel, circular postcard display out the front door of the surfer shop to place it by the entrance in hopes of luring some tourists in for the day.

"Hey, Baby," he greeted me with a smile. I couldn't help returning the smile; of course, Emmett's rather flashy style of dress was enough to make anyone smile, though. Today he was wearing a bright, fuchsia-colored, sleeveless tank top with the words "Suck it up" inscribed in big, white letters and a pair of lavender-colored, satin pants. A pair of multi-colored flip-flops completed his ensemble.

"Hi, Em," I responded affectionately.

"Ready for another round?" he asked me as I sighed in reaction.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. As long as I don't have to rescue people that don't _need_ to be rescued."

Em laughed. "Well, I'm not sure I would agree with you there. I'd be glad to give that man some CPR any day. Honey, he's hot! There was nothing he could hide in that compression suit," he pointed out meaningfully.

I grimaced, not wanting to think about that particular statement. "Yeah, well, he's also conceited and full of himself. He...he thinks that just because he looks the way he does that everyone is going to jump into bed with him." _Oops_. I knew as soon as I said that that Em would pick up on it, and I wasn't disappointed. I watched as his eyes grew large.

"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed excitedly as he clapped his hands together a couple of times. "Dish! Did the two of you fuck last night? I am sooo jealous. Tell your Auntie Em all about it!"

"Hold on, Em," I hastily corrected him as he jiggled up and down on his feet like he had just won a prized lottery. "We were together..." He gasped as I rolled my eyes and held up one hand for him not to jump to conclusions. "...for my sister's birthday dinner, along with my mom and dad." I almost chuckled at the deflated look on his face, almost like I had just told him there had been a death in the family.

He scrunched up his nose in confusion. "For...your sister's birthday dinner? How did THAT happen?"

"Well, it just so happens that that arrogant hotdog surfer is none other than Brian Kinney, my dad's advertising representative. My dad was the one who asked him if he wanted to join us for dinner; I had nothing to do with it."

"OH! Well, it's not what you did with it during dinner that I'm interested in. It's what you did with 'it' afterward," Em said to me with a wink as I couldn't help finally laughing.

"I didn't do _anything_ with 'it,' Em," I informed him. "Sorry to disappoint you." For some reason I didn't want to mention that we HAD kissed, however; I didn't want to contemplate why I wished to keep that a secret. "I have to get over to my station," I advised him as I glanced around.

"He hasn't been here yet, Baby," Em told me softly.

I frowned. "Who?"

He smiled. "_You_ know who. His surfboard is still locked up out back, so I know he hasn't been out here yet."

"That just means he hasn't retrieved his surfboard," I clarified. "It's low tide; he wouldn't be able to use it anyway." Em stared at me with a pointed look, and I knew I wasn't fooling him for one minute. Okay, maybe I _was_ more than a little curious.

"Gotta go," I quickly told him as I turned to leave before I put my foot in my mouth anymore.

"Anything you want me to tell Mr. Hot Stuff if I see him?" he called after me.

I just shook my head no as I heard him laugh softly behind me, feeling my face redden in response. _Damn it; the man could embarrass me even when he wasn't here!_

* * *

Feeling like part of a movie on constant loop, I sat down in my wooden station chair once more, this time taking care to place a beach towel down onto the seat beforehand to ward off the sun's heat. Already, even though it was just barely nine a.m., the sun was beating down mercilessly above the horizon and I could tell it was going to be a hot day. I had been smarter this time, however; I had brought with me a small, plastic cooler filled with several water bottles and even a small, battery operated fan that attached to my chair with a large clamp.

Settling into my seat, I picked up my binoculars to make a tentative sweep of my assigned area, first checking out the water, which was fairly deserted at this early hour, and then lowering my binoculars to take a closer look at the beach nearby. As I aimed my binoculars toward my immediate left, I sucked in a breath as they fell upon a very familiar man, smirking up at me and using his hand to simulate the up and down motion of the waves.

I lowered my binoculars to peer down at him. Today he wasn't wearing his aviator sunglasses, providing me with a better view of his mesmerizing eyes that I remembered so well from last night, and instead of his surfing apparel he had on a simple, white, sleeveless wifebeater shirt and a matching pair of white, linen shorts with a drawstring that hung low on his narrow hips; they were perched just high enough to be 'legal,' but still cause all sorts of vivid fantasies to filter into my mind. The color was very flattering against his bronze skin. But then again, I was beginning to think that nothing looked bad on this man. "What do you want, Brian?" I asked as I reached for my water bottle to unscrew it and took a sip.

"Is nude sunbathing allowed here?" he called up to me unexpectedly, so loudly that the few people that _were_ on the beach this early clearly heard what he asked me. He began to pull his top off over his head as I almost choked on my water.

"What are you doing?" I asked him as he threw the shirt down onto the sand and I saw him grasp the waistband on his shorts as if he were going to pull them down, too. "You can't do that!"

His grin widened as he tightened the string around his shorts and peered up at me innocently. "What? Tighten the drawstring? You wouldn't want my shorts to fall down, would you?"

I heard a few people snicker nearby as I glared at him. Was this going to be a daily occurrence? _The Brian and Justin Comedy Show_ with me as the straight man? "Very funny, Brian," I growled. "Why don't you go find another barracuda to play with?"

Brian laughed. "Barracuda; that's a new one. I kind of like it, though."

I rolled my eyes; it figured. "Brian, go away; I have a job to do here...For people that really _do_ need help."

"Ouch. Hey, I was just trying to be nice, Gidget. What time do you get a lunch break?"

I huffed. _What part of no does this man not understand_? "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, thank you. And remind me, by the way, to tell my dad to quit stocking that God-awful DVD at the gift shop. A cross between a girl and a midget? Wow, you really know how to impress a guy." I watched, my heart thumping, as Brian limberly swung himself up onto the lower steps and began to advance toward my chair. "Get down from there; it's for authorized personnel only."

He smirked. "What are you, the beach gestapo?" Before I could say "cowabunga," he was standing on the platform next to my chair.

"You are fucking unbelievable," I growled as I folded my arms across my chest.

"I know," he told me instantly with a grin as he walked over and rested both hands on either side of my chair to stare down at me. He leaned in so there were only a few inches separating us, and I couldn't help thinking as I stared into his face how much I would love to sketch him - after he fucked the living daylights out of me. He was glorious looking.

"You didn't answer my question, Justin."

I blinked, realizing I had spaced out briefly. "What question?"

He smirked as I glared back at him over his overconfidence. "About lunch. What time do you eat?"

"I'm a big boy," I shot back, my heart pounding in my chest over his nearness. "Believe it or not, I can get something to eat all by myself."

Brian sighed at me. "You are one damn _stubborn _boy, do you know that? I'm trying to be civil here and you're being an ass."

"I am NOT a _boy,_" I growled, feeling insulted, even though I had just used the same term myself. Not only was I a Gidget now, but apparently I was a little kid, too. "Will you kindly leave? It's a little hard to see what's going on with your body blocking my view. Go find a stingray and play with it," I suggested helpfully.

To my consternation, that only seemed to encourage him more as he chuckled at my response. "Don't worry; I like a challenge," he told me with a grin. "I'll just come back at noon; you have to eat sometime."

I shrugged. "It's an open beach," I told him as I reached toward my sun blocker lying on the ledge next to me, trying to ignore him but finding it impossible. I couldn't quite reach it, though, with this tall, muscular roadblock impeding my way. "Do you mind? I need to put some sun blocker on before I turn into a lobster."

He turned to snag the tube from the ledge, but held it just out of my reach as I grabbed for it. "You're impossible!" I told him, my eyes flashing. "Give me the damn sun blocker - _now_."

"Turn around," he told me; a surprising soft tone to his voice.

"What?"

"I said - turn around and I'll do you."

"Excuse me?" I stammered, feeling my face turning red at the thought.

He smiled at my reaction. "Turn around and I'll put some of this on your back," he explained more clearly as he rolled his tongue into his cheek.

"I'm perfectly capable of..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Justin Taylor! You are the most obstinate...I'm just trying to help you! Is it so hard to accept help from someone?"

I sighed; perhaps he was right. I was actually surprised that I hadn't had a sunburn from yesterday's escapade; of course, it was ironic that the one person who would have caused me to get sunburned was the same person offering to help prevent it now. But nevertheless, I decided I could use the help, and no one else was around at the moment. "Okay," I finally said. "But then you have to leave; civilians are not allowed up here."

Brian promptly stood up and saluted me. "Yes, Sir, Dudley!" he briskly told me with his smirk back in place.

I couldn't help grinning at him then over his antics as he waggled his eyebrows back at me. "Asshole," I muttered, but there was no sting in my words. "Well, I guess that's better than being called Gidget." He backed away enough to allow me to stand up to face him.

"Turn around," he ordered me softly as I did as I was told. I could hear the top of the tube being opened and then set back down before I felt a pair of amazingly warm hands touching my shoulders, palms down. I could feel the adrenalin rushing through my veins as he began to slowly slide his slickened hands over the curve of my shoulders and then down my upper arms with surprising gentleness, slowly and sensually, his fingers kneading my skin right above my elbows as he worked the lotion in. I closed my eyes tightly shut to somehow try and fight against the emotions swirling inside me, but I knew it was a losing battle. I repositioned my feet a little farther apart as Brian's hands moved down to my wrists, kneading them with his thumbs as he crept toward my fingers, taking a moment to intertwine them with his own.

"Brian..."

"Hmmm?"

"I can reach my hands. My back?" I reminded him.

I heard a light chuckle sound behind me before he released his grip and I heard him squirting some more lotion onto his hands. I held my breath for a moment until I felt the warmth return, this time to my upper back. My breathing hitched as his hands slowly traveled down my upper back toward my waist, his hands so strong and sure as they glided down my skin. I bit down on my lower lip as I felt his hands travel to the small of my back, inexplicably feeling exposed and vulnerable. My eyes suddenly bulged as I felt his fingers slipping underneath my swim trunks, right above the curve of my ass, and I jumped away from him, praying he wouldn't take my clothing along with him. Fortunately I managed somehow to retain my dignity - and my swim trunks - intact as I turned around to tell him, "I think that's good enough."

"For whom?" he asked me with that God-awful smirk of his again.

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you," I told him coolly as I tugged my swim trunks up a little higher. "But I think I can take it from here." I blushed as his eyes crept from my face to do a thorough sweep of my body, lingering around my groin before he lifted his gaze to meet mine.

He nodded. "What time did you say you take your lunch break?"

I sighed. "I didn't." The insufferable man just continued to stand there as if he were glued to the floor before I finally muttered, "One o'clock."

"What was that?"

"I said...ONE O'CLOCK!"

"Oh," he replied, curling his lips under in amusement. "Well, okay then, Gidget; you didn't have to shout," he told me as I huffed in exasperation. He walked over to swing himself over the side of the railing to descend, but just before he began to lower himself, he told me with that cocky expression of his, "By the way, I meant what I said in the note earlier. Later."

I prayed for a flock of seagulls just then to let forth with a shit bomb from above, but it didn't happen as I told him, "Go! Go before I change my fucking mind!"

With one last grin, he finally disappeared from my line of sight, leaving me to question whether I had finally lost all sense of sanity. One thing was for certain, however; my lunch would be a whole lot more interesting now than the tuna sandwich I had placed in my cooler earlier.


	7. Don't Worry, Baby

_Brian and Justin have their picnic. But will it go like Brian thinks? _

* * *

The rest of the morning transpired fairly smoothly; I only had to spring 'into action' when a young boy who appeared to be around 12 or 13 decided it would be a good idea to jump barefoot from rock to rock out on the craggy line of boulders that jutted out underneath the abandoned fishing pier that used to be in better shape prior to a bad storm years ago, and had promptly wound up with a bad cut on the bottom of his right foot.

At least it gave me the opportunity to get down from my 'perch' and do a little walking around as I applied some antiseptic to the boy's foot and then bandaged it carefully afterward. Now, as I sat back in my chair, I tried not to notice my lunchtime fast approaching, but it was ever present in my mind. I could feel my pulse racing at the thought of having lunch with Brian. He still continued to be an enigma to me, and I still wasn't sure if he was just playing with me or not. So I decided I would have to tread very carefully around him in either case.

"Hey, Justin!" Zipper called up to me as I leaned over the railing enough to see him standing right below me. I watched as he hefted himself with surprising agility up to the balcony. "Ready for lunch?" he asked as I nodded. He noticed me hesitating to get up, however, as he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No...It's just that, well..." I wasn't sure how he would react to me having lunch with the man who had made a fool out of me yesterday. Truthfully, I wasn't sure how I was feeling about that, either. "I'm waiting for s..."

"Ready, Gidg?" I heard Brian say just then and I cringed. _Damn man._

I heard Zipper chuckle softly beside me. "Well, well, well," he said with a grin. "He seems to have recovered well from yesterday." He eyed me curiously as I felt my face grow warm. "You're having lunch with surfer boy?"

I sighed. "It's kind of a long story..."

"Uh, huh," he said to me with one eyebrow arched. "Well, be careful. You know what sharp teeth piranhas can have."

"Actually, I think he's more like a barracuda," I confided in him as we shared a smile of amusement between us like some deep, dark secret.

"Or an octopus," Zipper told me as I blushed. I had to give him credit, though; there was no hint or reproach or even criticism in his statements; I imagined after being a lifeguard for over twenty-five years now, however, he had probably seen it all. "Just be careful, kid, okay?"

I nodded as I hopped off the chair and reached for my sunglasses, flip flops and hat, knowing I had to be careful out in the sun. At the moment, however, I wasn't sure what I needed to me careful of: the unrelenting rays of the sun above - or the man waiting for me below. Taking a deep breath, I gave a nod to Zipper as I turned to begin descending the steps, my back turned away from the water. I was just about to lower myself onto the sand when I felt a strong pair of hands grasp me by the waist and help me down. I couldn't help the soft gasp of surprise that escaped my lips as I turned around in Brian's grip. He stared into my eyes for a moment before he let go of me. "Ready for lunch?" he asked quietly, no hint of ridicule or disparagement in his eyes this time.

All I could do was nod initially as he asked me how long a break I had. I managed to croak out "an hour" as he nodded in acknowledgement. My curiosity got the better of me as I glanced down to see a plain, brown, wicker basket with a hinged lid and a handle lying near his feet. "You...you brought a picnic?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's portable and it's practical," he explained. "The concierge packed it for me, and that's what he chose to pack it _in_. Let's not read too much into it, okay?"

I shrugged as I began to follow along beside him. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

He turned to look at me as I wished (not for the first time) that I could tell what was going through his mind. "Why?"

"Well, I just thought we were going to go get a hot dog or something," I explained.

He snorted at me. "A hot dog? I don't 'do' hot dogs; at least not the shit that's filled with nitrites, anyway." He smirked. "I prefer a _different_ kind of hot dog."

I squinted at him under my sunglasses, relieved that he couldn't see my eyes to tell that his response bothered me for some reason. I felt both highly inadequate - as well as just a bit jealous if I were truthful with myself. I tried to not let him see that, however, as I replied, "I'll bet you do. I guess in your case opposites _don't_ attract, then."

He pondered that for a few seconds before he grunted, "I don't know if I would say that." He stared at me intently as he added, "I guess time will tell."

I nodded, not sure what to make of that, as I turned and gazed out at the waves; they were gently undulating ones now, it being closer to low tide, but the steady whoosh of the water still served to soothe and calm me, and the wet sand under my feet felt good as we walked. After a few minutes of silence - and continued walking, however - my curiosity got the best of me again. "Where are we going?" I finally asked him. "I can't be out in the sun for too long."

"...Or dogs will be hiking their leg on you."

"Huh?"

He smiled as he explained, "You'll look like a fire hydrant."

"Oh," I said in understanding. "By the way, do you know that fire hydrants aren't all red? They're painted different colors based on what the flow rate is. Red's actually the lowest; blue's the highest."

Brian looked at me like I had two heads before he burst out laughing; rather than being insulted by his reaction, I found his laughter to be contagious as I smiled back at him, one of the smiles that I only occasionally bestow when I am very happy about something. He seemed taken aback by the magnitude of my smile as I frowned. "What?"

He stopped to shake his head. "Nothing. I'm just not sure which one I'm more amazed by: your wealth of eccentric trivia information...or your smile."

I did blush deeply then to probably match the color of a fire hydrant with a LOW water flow rate as he finally began to turn away slightly from the beach itself as he urged me, "This way; we're almost there."

We walked perpendicular to the pier where I had hoped to get a job until we came to a grove of tall, pine trees that provided a good amount of shade, but also an open view of the beach and the ocean. Brian steered me toward a weathered, wooden picnic table that was a little more hidden from the rest by some ornamental grass as he placed the basket down on the bench. "I trust this table meets with your satisfaction, Monsieur?" he said in a fake, French accent as he swept his hand out to indicate I should take a seat.

I couldn't help giggling at his attempt to actually be charming as I sat down and he lifted the lid to pull out a red-and-white, checkered plastic tablecloth to unfurl it, spreading it over the table top. I watched in fascination as he began to pull out other items from the basket: A bottle of red wine with two plastic goblets, a couple containers of cheese and grapes, some type of sandwiches on crusty bread, and a couple pints of Cole slaw and potato salad, and finally some plastic cutlery and plates, along with salt and pepper shakers in the shape of two hula dancers that jiggled when he sat them down.

"How quaint," he muttered as I laughed. "There must be two million carbs in this lunch," he groused as he surveyed it.

"Why would you even worry about that?" I asked him as he began to open up the salad containers to dish some out. "You don't have an extra ounce of fat on your body."

"You noticed?"

I flushed. "Well...uh...yeah," I had to admit; I mean, who wouldn't have noticed? "You must surf a lot."

"I do," Brian told me with his tongue rolled into his cheek. "Both in the water and on the web. Both of them do wonders to keep my body in tip-top shape."

I nodded, my mouth dry and suddenly feeling like the proverbial fish out of water as I realized what he meant. I was too embarrassed to admit to him that I obviously have had far less experience 'surfing' than he did.

"Here," he told me as he sat down next to me on the same side of the bench and handed me a plate full of food. "Wine? I wouldn't want to corrupt your youth, though."

"Could have fooled me," came out of my mouth before I could stop it. He bestowed an amused look on me, clearly having heard my comment, as I hastily added, "Uh, thanks," before he unscrewed the lid of the wine bottle and poured me a half-glassful into a plastic goblet.

"I don't usually go for this cheap shit," he felt a need to explain for some reason. "But I'll lower my standards for today."

"Which ones?"

He grinned at my impertinence as our hands brushed against each other's as I accepted it, feeling a tingle all the way down to my toes upon contact. I raised the glass to my lips and took a large gulp to steady my nerves as I heard Brian say, "Hey, Gidget...Not so fast."

I bristled. "Will you PLEASE stop calling me that? I am NOT a 'Gidget.'"

"Well, you're acting like one when you drink so fast," he retorted. "How will you leap tall lifeguard stations in a single bound and throw stranded baby starfish back into the water if you're plastered?"

Everything that had been happening so far this summer seemed to culminate just then as I seethed at how he was treating me like a child - and how my dream of working with my art had evaporated much like the early-morning fog that frequently settled over the beach on most days. "Fuck you, Brian!" I snapped as I stood up, the goblet tipping over and spilling what was left on the tablecloth to add to my woes. "I'm tired of being treated like a little kid and being told what I can or cannot do!

Brian sighed heavily in what sounded like a patronizing gesture as he rose to intercept me before I got more than a few feet away. "Justin..."

I whirled around, my eyes flashing. "Oh, so you remembered my name after all? Well, you can just forget it now - and forget lunch!" I turned around and began to stomp - well, as much as I could stomp in the soft sand - back toward the pier, my stomach growling in hunger as I walked. But I would not give that arrogant man another second of my time. If I was that immature for him, he could go find someone _else_ to wine and dine.

"Justin, you're being ridiculous!" I heard him shout before he added for good measure, "Fine! Don't count on me chasing after you! There're plenty of other fish in the sea! And plenty of other guys to fuck!"

"I'm not stopping you!" I shouted back as I crossed my arms over my chest and trudged along the sandy path that led back toward the pier. Of course, that only reminded me even more of my present, uninspiring job and made me feel even more miserable, but I refused to look back as I turned and headed toward my patrol station. At least I had enough time to grab a hot dog - if I had any money, that is. "Damn it," I muttered in realization; I hadn't brought any money with me because I didn't think I would need it today, and I didn't have time to go back to the resort. Pride was a poor substitute for food, and I really wasn't in the mood for my tuna salad sandwich now, either.

Giving my dilemma some thought, I settled on a possible solution as I walked up to the surfer shop and slipped inside, enjoying the escape from the heat.

"Hey, Baby!" Emmett greeted me as he handed some change to a deeply-tanned man at the counter. The patron gave me an appreciative sweep of his eyes and smiled at me hopefully before I turned my head, not interested in being hit upon by yet another jerk. He thankfully got the idea as he hesitated for just a moment before he turned and headed outside.

"Hi, Em," I began tentatively, relieved that the shop was presently deserted. "Uh...I have a favor to ask. Can I borrow a few bucks to get some lunch?"

"Sure thing," he told me with a smile as he reached in his pocket. He frowned at the weary, distressed look on my face, however, as he started to hand it to me. "Everything okay, Sweetie? You look kind of out of it today somehow. You feeling all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But Em knew me too well to accept that pat statement as gospel. "You don't look fine, Justin."

I sighed in concession. "No, I guess I'm not."

"Well, I tell you what," Emmett told me. He handed me a ten-dollar bill. "Go get us a hot dog, fries, and a chocolate shake and come back here. I'll get someone to cover for me and we can have lunch together in the stockroom and talk. Now scoot!" he playfully urged me as I accepted the cash and nodded, knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer. Besides, I felt like I needed someone to talk to, and my father certainly wouldn't understand.

* * *

_A few minutes later..._

"Okay, so spill, Sweetie. What's going on?"

I was sitting on an overturned, wooden crate in the storage room off to the side of the store as Emmett slurped on his shake. "How long have you got?" I asked with a shake of my head. I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket as I informed him, "I only have about a half-hour anyway until I have to get back."

"I thought you got an hour for lunch."

"Yeah, normally, when someone isn't harassing me."

Em frowned at me in concern. "Someone's been bothering you?"

"You might say that. Brian Kinney."

Em's eyes widened. "The surfer god?"

I snorted. "That's not exactly the words I would use, but yeah, him. He asked me to lunch and then proceeded to make fun of me."

Em seemed to take a moment to digest all that information before he replied, "I'm sorry to hear that, Baby. What did he say?"

I shook my head. "It's not so much _what_ he says, I guess, as the way he says it. He treats me like a little kid."

"How so?"

"Well, that damn Gidget reference for one. He keeps calling me that, even though I've told him to stop. And then...Then this morning he insisted on putting some of my sun blocker on me. And...Then when we had lunch just now, he was scolding me because I was drinking my wine too fast. Not to mention how he took that tumble off his board and then pretended that he was really hurt when he wasn't." I huffed in indignation as I looked over at my friend and noticed him trying to hide a smile. "It's not funny, Emmett!"

But to my consternation, Emmett laughed out loud. "Oh, Baby, can't you see what that hunk of a man is doing? You should be flattered!"

"What the hell are you talking about? He's driving me nuts and he's being an asshole!"

"Well, yeah, that, too," Emmett conceded. "But he's _flirting_ with you, Justin, don't you see that? He likes you."

"He _likes_ me? That sounds so...Third grade."

Emmett shrugged. "Maybe his emotional growth was stunted or something at an early age, and he doesn't know how to properly express how he feels about someone. But I'm telling you, Justin Taylor, he has all the signs of having a full-fledged crush on you."

Hope began to flicker inside me, but I refused to properly acknowledge it. "What would he want with me? He's got to be years older than me!" Although I had to admit, he was 'well-preserved.' It didn't bother me in the slightest; I thought he was hotter than hell, actually. Sighing over the knowledge, I replied, "Em, the only thing he wants out of me is the obvious, and after he has it, he'll drop me like a broken seashell on the beach."

"Maybe he will," Emmett responded truthfully as I nodded in agreement. "But then again, maybe he won't. You'll never know unless you find out for sure." He paused for a moment to take a sip of his shake as he told me, "I think the truth is that you're afraid."

My eyes bugged out. "Afraid? What are you talking about? I just told you..."

"I know, Baby. But I also know that any man who looks like him can have any guy he wants. And that also means that he's got to be well-versed in all forms of sexual pleasure; something that you are woefully lacking in but definitely need to improve upon. You don't know what you're missing, Sweetie, and you're too delicious-looking not to imbibe, if you know what I mean. What would be the harm in it?"

My face turned red. Em and I had spent several hours discussing sex - he was a virtual encyclopedia when it came to most questions that I had - and not being very experienced, there have been many - but hearing about it and doing it were two different matters. And just the thought of 'doing it' with someone like Brian Kinney made my heart thump in fear as well as excitement.

"But, Em, even if he _is_ attracted to me, I don't want to be a one-time fuck to him. I'm sure that's what _all _the guys are to him."

"Would that be so bad?" he insisted. "What I mean is, which one would be worse? _Wondering _what it might be like to be with him - or only getting one night with him? If you ask me, Sweetie, I'd take my chances. I mean, look at him! He's a virtual advertisement for sex on two legs! So maybe it _would_ be for just one night. But oh, what a night that would be! I'd trade with you any day," he added with a wistful smile. "But you're obviously the one he's infatuated with."

I struggled to rationalize everything. Maybe Em was right; God knows I had wondered about it - and jacked off to the idea - numerous times before. But it couldn't be anything like the real thing.

"I don't know, Em. If he just wasn't so damn cocky and condescending..."

"Well, think about what I said," he told me as he finished off the last bite of his hot dog and scrunched up the paper into a wad as he stood up. "I have to get back out to the shop."

I nodded as I wolfed down the last bite of my hot dog, too, sweeping up the rest of my lunch to toss what little was left into a wastebasket nearby. I held onto my shake as I stood up, thinking it would feel good going down my throat while I was sitting under the beach umbrella in the mid-day heat. "I will," I promised him as he nodded. I smiled. "Thanks for treating me to lunch; I'll pay you back tomorrow."

He shook his head as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Just consider it part of _Emmett Honeycutt's Seminar on Sex 101_."

I grinned. "Okay." My expression sobered, however, as I told him, "I still don't know what to do about him. After what just happened, he may take what I said to heart and not want anything to do with me anyway."

"Somehow I doubt that," Emmett predicted with an affectionate smile. "But when the time comes, you'll know what to do; you have good instincts. After all, you befriended _me_, didn't you?"

I smiled at him, lost in thought. "Yeah," I answered softly. That was the pivotal question, though, wasn't it? What WAS I going to do about him?

* * *

Brian scooped up the remnants of his and Justin's lunch and tossed them back into the picnic basket; his appetite was pretty much ruined the moment that Justin went out on a tangent with his "I'm not a kid" temper tantrum speech. He shook his head. What exactly was with this kid? Perhaps that was the problem, though; Justin may be quite a bit younger than him, but he was no 'kid.' Yes, a young adult, certainly, but when he looked at him his thoughts were anything but 'child-like.' The more he was around him, too, the more those thoughts surfaced with increasing intensity.

He really knew practically nothing about him, other than the fact that he was apparently a very talented artist, at least if those paintings and sketches out in the hallway were any indication. And he seemed quite intelligent, as well as had a razor-sharp sense of humor. He could keep up with him in conversation quite admirably. And, of course, there was the obvious; the boy was beautiful. Creamy, smooth skin, a strong jaw, button nose, full, kissable lips, golden-colored hair and those long-lashed, blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through him, especially when he was getting all indignant with him. His body was perfectly proportioned, and fuck, that smile! When he had flashed him a full-fledged smile, he had been taken aback by his reaction to it. His heart had actually skipped a beat. He had never seen anyone with a smile like that. It made him want to see that same smile over and over again.

Now, though, it appeared the chances of that were slim to none. What exactly had just happened here? He already knew that Justin had a sense of humor; he had displayed it time and time again just now over lunch. But he had practically exploded at him all of a sudden, merely over his use of that inane "Gidget" nickname and a joke about him getting too smashed to handle his lifeguard duties. Why would he get so upset over that? Was there more going on with him than he knew about?

He closed up the picnic basket and sat down heavily on the bench, deep in thought. What the fuck? And more importantly, why should he care? He could have anyone he wanted, when he wanted. But for some reason with this one, he did care about what he thought about him.

"Fuck it," he finally decided as he snatched up the picnic basket and stood up. He would drop it off in his room at the resort and then find someone else to scratch his itch for now.


	8. The Game of Love

_Brian gets to see Justin in action - and can't help liking what he sees. Can he keep his foot out of his mouth, however?_

* * *

_Later that afternoon..._

Brian studiously avoided peering over at the South Lifeguard Station while he was surfing, not wanting Justin to think he had had an effect on him earlier. A few hours of surfing some of the roughest waves he had ever experienced since coming to the resort had served to lighten his mood considerably, allowing him to do nothing but feel and not think. He had to admit, though, as he rode wave after wave into shore that Justin was never far from his thoughts nevertheless. He had had every intention of finding someone to fuck when he got back to the hotel - even the same waiter he had done earlier would have worked in a pinch - but to his surprise he found that he really wasn't that interested. He had decided, instead, to come back out here to try and work off some of his tension.

Finally, bone weary and the heat pressing in on him, he decided to soon stop for the day and seek out a nice, cool drink at the back patio's bar to help him relax. First, however, he would ride one last wave in; low tide was slowly approaching, making the waves less impressive than they had been before. As he picked up his surfboard and waded into the water to catch one, last ride, he dared to steal a glance over at the lifeguard station, noticing Justin peering out over the ocean through his binoculars. He was looking the other way, however, and did not see him observing him. He sighed as he turned his head to wade in deeper, just as he stepped on something squishy that was definitely not a rock and immediately felt a sharp, lancing pain shooting through his left foot, making him cry out in agony. "Fuck!" he yelped. He had never felt such pain before in his life; it felt like someone had stuck a long, hypodermic needle through the top of his foot.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he kept exclaiming, his chest heaving rapidly as he tried to combat the pain, but it was only getting worse by the second. The pain was so intense he could feel tears springing up in his eyes. Somehow he managed to hold onto his surfboard and walk the twenty or so yards into shore before he dropped onto his knees and collapsed onto the sand, twisting his waist as he sat there while he tried to examine his foot to see what had happened.

Another surfer walked up to him, noticing the distressed look on his face. "You okay?" he asked, although it was obvious he wasn't.

Brian shook his head, not in the mood to try and pretend to be 'macho.' "I think something stung me," he told him. "My foot..."

The other man leaned down to look at the top of Brian' foot; it was red and angry looking. "Oh, man; looks like a stingray," he told him. "You're going to need help. I'll go get the lifeguard. Stay put."

Brian was in too much pain to protest, knowing exactly who the guy would likely get to help as he nodded. But there was no way he could walk like this, not with it hurting like a motherfucker. It was even more painful than when it had first occurred. _Great...Just great_, he couldn't help thinking as his face contorted in agony. His whole leg now was throbbing as he moaned and rocked lightly back and forth. This was like nothing he had ever experienced before, and it was all he could do to just sit there and try to breathe in and breathe out.

* * *

_Justin's POV_

"Justin! Hey, Justin!"

I turned my head at the sound of a high-pitched, excited voice; after being a lifeguard both here and at the pool, I had reached the point when I could tell that something was remiss, and I could tell immediately that something was wrong by the tone of this person's voice. Pulling the binoculars away from my eyes, I looked down to see one of the local surfers, Dirk Myerson, worriedly peering up at me.

"Hey, Dirk! What is it?"

"Come quick! Somebody's hurt; I think it's a stingray!"

My heart sped up; damn, those could be painful, and Dirk would probably know what he was talking about. I nodded. "Be right there! Do me a favor and run and tell Emmett to bring me a jug of hot water - as hot as he can stand it! Where's the injured person?"

He pointed over to his left. "Over by the water's edge; he's sitting down. It's another surfer - has a yellow surfboard next to him."

I nodded as Dirk rushed away toward the surfer shop and I turned to run back inside, just long enough to grab the first aid kit and a plastic tub similar to a wash pan. Hurrying back outside, I stopped for just a second to try and locate the party who was injured, and my eyes narrowed suspiciously in recognition. "Oh, no," I murmured. "Surely not." _Shit_. Surely Brian wasn't pulling another joke on me. If he was, there was going to be hell to pay, and by the time I got done with him, he will believe that a stingray attack is the lesser of two evils.

Taking a deep breath, I took the steps as fast as I could, then took off at a full run toward Brian, who was quickly attracting a crowd.

"Out of the way!" I shouted at them like a man possessed as they parted for me; I was still not sure what I was about to encounter. As soon as I came upon Brian sitting on the sand, however, his eyes fighting back tears and his face contorted with pain while he moaned softly, I immediately knew that this was not a joke this time. I crouched down next to him, briskly opening up my first aid kit to dig out some medicine and setting the pan down next to me as his eyes met mine; I thought I detected a flicker of relief as well as just a bit of embarrassment on his face, but he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Stingrays were serious business. "You're going to be just fine," I told him firmly. "Where did you get stung?"

He gritted his teeth as he gasped out, "Top of my foot; left one."

I sat down and reached over to gently take his left foot in my hand, noticing the telltale mark where a stingray would typically attack. I wanted to make sure that none of the barb remained embedded in his foot. I was relieved to see that it had been a clean attack as I nodded. "Yeah, looks like a stingray all right. Do you remember stepping on something?"

"Yeah," he wheezed out, his breathing heavy. "Something squishy; then a felt something sharp. Fuck, the pain's getting worse!"

"That's the toxin spreading; it affects your nerve endings," I told him as his eyes widened in concern. "I've got someone bringing me some hot water to put your foot in; that's the best remedy to ease the pain - it'll help to dull the toxin."

"How serious is it?" he asked me in a raspy voice.

"Serious enough to hurt like hell for a few hours - anywhere from a couple to eight or so," I told him truthfully as he winced. "But you'll be okay," I assured him as he nodded. "You'll just have to take it easy for a few days."

"I think...I...Figured that out," he managed to say as Dirk came rushing up to me.

"I told him to make it as hot as possible," he told me. I nodded in gratitude that Dirk had been the one to spot Brian; being a seasoned surfer, he knew the best routine to help alleviate stingray attack pain as well as treat it quickly.

"Thanks," I told him as I gently set Brian's foot down in the plastic pan and began to unscrew the jug's lid. "This is going to be very hot," I warned him as I ripped open the package holding the Dombro, an analgesic that is supposed to help alleviate the pain, and dropped the medication into the pan next to his foot. "But it's the best treatment to ward off serious side effects from the stingray barb," I told him. He nodded in understanding before I lifted the jug of water and began to slowly pour it into the pan. Brian cried out as it hit his foot.

"Fuck, that IS hot!" he roared, not sure if that was worse than the actual sting or not. "Justin..."

"Brian, if you can handle it the hotter, the better," I told him. "And I know you like it hot," I told him under my breath, achieving a small smile from him in return, just like I had hoped. "Stay with me," I told him as I reached over to tightly squeeze his hand, receiving a vise-like grip from him in return. I could hear him suck in a breath, his eyes still watering from the pain, as I continued to pour the water into the pan and over his foot until it completely covered it.

"You'll need to soak your foot for about thirty minutes," I told him as he continued to grip my hand tightly. "The pain should lessen considerably by then." He nodded as he let out a deep, ragged breath. "It doesn't appear to be a deep wound, but you should have the resort's doctor take a look at it just to make sure."

"You need me for anything else, Justin?"

I thought about how Brian would get back to the resort as I peered up at Dirk. "Well, I could probably use your help after a while getting Brian up to the resort doctor. We can transport him using his board."

Dirk nodded. "Good idea. About thirty minutes? I'll go stow my own board in the meantime."

I nodded back at him with a smile. "Yeah, thanks. And can you see if you can find Zipper for me? We might need him as well."

"Sure thing," Dirk nodded with a smile of his own as he turned and headed toward the surfer shop. By now, the rest of the gawkers had begun to disperse, sensing the momentary excitement had waned now. Finally, after a few reassurances to bystanders that everything was under control Brian and I found themselves relatively alone for a change.

I felt Brian's hand loosen a little under my touch as he lifted his eyes away from the injury to glance over at me. "How's the pain now?" I asked, noticing Brian's face had relaxed a little.

"It's better," Brian confirmed as I nodded.

"I'm glad," I told him softly. I attempted to disentangle my hand from Brian's grip, but found that he didn't seem to want to let it go. "Dirk should be back soon to help transport you back to the resort so the doctor can take a look at it. I'm sure one of his friends or Zipper can help." I peered around the surrounding area, satisfied that everything seemed back to normal now in my patrol area. "I need to get back to work," I told him. Once more, I tried to pull my hand away, but Brian held fast. "Brian..."

"Justin...About what happened earlier..."

I shook my head as I finally was able to break free from Brian's grip. "Let's not talk about that now," I mumbled awkwardly. Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed by my behavior earlier. I still didn't like the way that Brian seemed to treat me as less than an equal, but at the same time I _had_ admittedly acted rather childishly during our picnic.

"But..."

"Brian, not now," I insisted a little more firmly as I glanced up just in time to see Dirk returning with Zipper. I worried my lower lip as I finally told him, "We can talk about it later." He nodded at me just as the two men walked up.

"How you doing?" Dirk asked Brian.

"Better," he told me as he peered over at me gratefully. "He knows his stuff."

I flushed at the compliment as I told the two, "Can you grab his surfboard and help transport him back to the hotel?"

"I can walk, Justin; I'm not a cripple," Brian told me curtly.

"I know that. But the more you put weight on that foot, the more the toxin will spread. Just humor me - for once; okay?"

His mouth lifted at one side over the subtle message. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he replied to my relief as I nodded. I watched as Dirk helped Brian to his feet while Zipper and I hoisted the surfboard up to a horizontal position. Brian hopped on one foot over to the board and sat down on it as Dirk took my place.

"Thanks," Brian told me softly as I nodded, watching the three of them heading carefully toward the hotel. As I began to head back to my lifeguard station, I saw Emmett rushing over to me.

"How is he?" he asked a little breathlessly as he peered over at the three men several feet away now. "Was it a stingray attack?"

I nodded. "Yeah, looks like it. He was in a lot of pain earlier, but it's better now. Thanks for getting that hot water for him. That made a big difference."

"You're welcome," he told me. "It's a good thing you were around to help him."

I shrugged. "It's my job, Em."

"Uh, huh. Well, let's see if it stays strictly _professional_." He smiled at me as I rolled my eyes. "Now don't give me that look, Justin Taylor! Just think about what I said earlier, okay? Promise."

I let out a deep breath. "Okay, I promise. Now I got to go. See you later." He nodded at me as I proceeded back to my post. I had a few more hours to go yet, but something told me my mind wouldn't be focusing too well on the task at hand, but rather something - or in this case, _someone - _else.

* * *

_Early Evening..._

Changed into a casual outfit of khaki shorts and a light blue, short-sleeved tee shirt, I headed down from my room toward the private guest quarters, stopping where the two hallways met and wondering how a certain someone was doing. I bit my lip, feeling my heart accelerating in indecision, before I veered toward the last suite of the guest wing, making an educated guess as to which one belonged to Brian.

I raised my hand, poised to knock but suddenly feeling something akin to stage fright. _Buck up, Taylor_, I scolded myself. _What could happen? At least he can't run very fast right now_, I couldn't help thinking with a smirk. Finally, I rapped on the door three times and waited anxiously for whether or not I would get a reply.

"Go away; I don't need anything!" I heard a familiar voice yell back. "Can't you read the fucking card?"

I grinned as I glanced down; I hadn't noticed the _Do Not Disturb_ placard hung around the doorknob. At least now I was sure who the occupant was - and it appeared he was in a surly mood, too.

Steeling myself, I reached inside my pocket to find the master keycard and slip it into the slot. Taking a deep breath, I slowly pressed down on the handle and pushed the door to open it. Slipping inside, I didn't see Brian anywhere, but, of course, I already knew he was here somewhere. I walked over to peek inside the partially open door of the bedroom, not finding him there, either. That left only one other option: the large, open balcony overlooking the ocean.

Sure enough, the sliding glass door heading out from the living area was halfway open as I walked toward it. I could hear the crashing of the waves below, signifying it was getting closer to high tide; a few seconds later, I finally found Brian, lying in one of the thickly-padded chaise lounges in the corner of the balcony. He was wearing a navy-blue, sleeveless wifebeater shirt and dark brown shorts, his foot propped up on top of a beach towel and a drink of some sort clutched in his right hand; a cigarette was dangling in his other as he gazed quietly out at the water.

"You shouldn't mix alcohol with drugs," I told him softly. He didn't appear to acknowledge my presence at first until he finally responded dryly without looking at me, "Now who's treating whom like a child?"

_Touché. _I couldn't help smiling over at him sheepishly. "I just don't want you to suffer any other side effects from your injury. If the doctor gave you some antibiotics or pain pills, well..."

Brian winced as he adjusted his position on the chaise lounge. "Calm down, Dudley. It's just some plain, old iced tea; honest."

I nodded, relieved. "What did the doctor say?"

"Pretty much what you suspected," Brian rattled off. "Stingray attack, but not a severe one. He told me I would have some inflammation and pain for the next few days, and he gave me some pain medicine and an antibiotic to ward off any possible infection. He told me to take it easy and let him know if I see anything that might indicate a worsening of my condition, but he thought it would heal in a few days without any further treatment." He paused for a moment to stare at me, almost to the point where I began to feel a little uncomfortable. "He said the lifeguard did all the right things to minimize the aftereffects, or it could have been a lot worse. Thanks," he added more softly as I felt my face warm.

"You're welcome. But it was all just..."

"...Part of your job. Yeah, I've heard that before. Is _this_ part of your job, too, Mr. Taylor?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Coming here personally to check on the victims you rescue."

I blushed, realizing I had been caught. "No," I admitted as I gazed into his eyes; they were doing that green-and-gold sort of swirl thing again, and I found myself entranced. "I was worried about you."

He seemed to like that answer, because I got a smile out of him. "I'm glad," he told me.

I flushed at the sound of his voice, and my words began to nervously tumble out. "Can I get you anything? Another pillow? Some more to drink? Have you eaten? You shouldn't be taking pills on an empty, stomach, either..."

Brian chuckled as he crushed his cigarette butt in a glass ashtray emblazoned with the resort's logo situated on the small, circular table situated next to his chaise lounge. "Will you stop with the mother hen routine? I'm fine. And yes, I did eat something." He rolled his tongue into his cheek as he wryly informed me, "It seems I had some extra food left over from lunch."

"Oh," I replied, embarrassed as realization hit. "Brian..." I stopped talking as Brian placed his hand on my knee and squeezed it. I lifted my eyes to meet his, my cheeks warming at the look on his face.

"Justin, if you're going to apologize..."

I frowned. "What do I have to apologize for? You're the one who was calling me names and talking down to me."

Brian huffed as he removed his hand and placed his glass of tea down next to the ashtray. "What about that temper tantrum you threw during lunch? And all this coddling you're doing _now_?"

"Temper tantrum? Coddling? I had a _right_ to be mad earlier, Brian! And if you want to call genuine concern 'coddling,' then go right ahead! Fuck, why do I even try?!" I growled as I began to stand up, only to have Brian tug on my wrist to promptly pull me back down, this time right onto his lap. I discovered how strong his arms were as he quickly slid them around my waist and firmly locked me there like a prisoner.

"Let me go, you asshole! You are the most stubborn, obstinate, condescending man I have ever..."

I didn't get a chance to finish my thought as Brian abruptly pulled me down to plaster his lips onto mine, and it was then that any pretense of coherent thought vanished as the same sensations I had experienced when we had kissed earlier washed all over me again. I braced my hands on his shoulders, mainly to keep my balance as our upper bodies melded against each other. I could feel both of our hearts beating rapidly together as his tongue pressed out insistently, leaving no pretext as to what it - and Brian - wanted.

My talk earlier with Emmett briefly entered my mind as I wondered the wisdom of sitting there in Brian's lap, letting him kiss me to within an inch of my life, but I knew there was no way I could deny what was happening. Surrendering to what I knew deep down I had to have, I opened my mouth just enough for Brian's tongue to slide inside, and I closed my eyes to heighten the wondrous, tactile sensation. I moaned softly as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, tightly gripping the back of my head as his tongue gave the inside of my mouth a thorough swabbing. I felt Brian's other hand sliding lower and lower until it moved around my backside to cup my ass, his fingers splayed out over the thin, khaki material of my shorts where my crack was. I could feel the warmth of his skin through the material as he continued to ravage my lips, and my body came alive with desire.

I squirmed in his embrace, our bare legs intertwined, unaware that my motion was making him even hornier. I soon found out, however, as my ass rubbed against his crotch and I heard Brian suck in a sharp breath in reaction as he tried to slide his hand inside my shorts. I pushed against him then as our lips separated with a distinctive popping sound.

"What?" Brian asked breathlessly, his eyes dilated and the color of molten, chocolate lava as they bored into mine. I could feel his breath on my face, our lips inches apart as I struggled to explain what was going on. How did I let it get this far?

"I...Brian..." I let out an erratic breath, trying desperately to get some more air into my lungs.

"Yeah? Justin, spell it out," Brian commanded quietly, his one hand resting just under my shirt at the small of my back and the other one languidly stroking the hair at the nape of my neck, making it hard for me to concentrate.

"Your foot..." I sputtered out at last, grasping at whatever I could. Okay, even to me that sounded lame, and it didn't take long for Brian to call me on it. I earned an arch of his right eyebrow with that remark.

"Justin, do I look like I'm worried about my damn foot? Trust me; I can operate quite efficiently without using that particular part of my anatomy. Let me demonstrate." He slid his hand around my waist to my belly, heading straight toward my cock. I quickly reached down between us to grab his wrist to still his motion as Brian eyed me with clear frustration.

"Come on; I know you want this as much as I do," Brian told me confidently as I bit my lip in indecision. Hell, yes, I wanted it! Who wouldn't with this particular man? And at my age, my libido was in overdrive. But what exactly did 'this' mean? A one-time fuck to satisfy Brian's curiosity? To gloat in the morning that he had 'done' me and now he could move onto another conquest? A one-up contest where he could brag that the little, inexperience twink had given in?

"Justin?" He squeezed my hand as his lips nuzzled the side of my neck, his tongue drawing a stripe on my flesh as I gasped at the wetness and heat. "I need you to _take care of me_." His voice was low and guttural, making me painfully hard as my defenses started to crumble.

"I...Brian...wait..." I pulled back to stare into his eyes, my hands palm down on his chest in an almost defensive position. I glanced around, verifying that from our vantage point we could be seen by others down on the crowded beach, which only added to my dilemma. Even if I DID want to have sex with him, it couldn't be out here. If my father ever caught wind of what was happening or the guests told him about it, I would be skinned alive, whether he had grudgingly accepted my sexual orientation or not. "I can't do this; not out here," I finally managed to say.

"Why not?" he asked with that obnoxious smirk back on his face. "That's what makes it so hot. Oh, are you afraid your delicate little skin will get burned? Well, then, don't worry, I'll protect you; you'll be on the bottom. "

I huffed in disbelief; I may not have had any experience with that directly, but I knew what it meant, anyway, thanks to Emmett, my 'advisor,' and it made me bristle for some reason.

"I can't believe you!" I growled as I pulled myself free from Brian's grasp; his comment was like cold water being thrown into my face. "Does it always have to be about YOU, Brian?" I shook my head sadly. "About YOUR needs? I huffed. "I did what I came to do; to check on your condition...So now I'm leaving." I gazed out briefly onto the ocean below to try and center my emotions; normally it made me relaxed and soothed me, but not today - my emotions were a jumbled mess. I turned back around to see Brian silently studying me, a look of what appeared to be disappointment and incredulity on his face. _Well too, bad. Take that, Kinney_, I thought. Although it seemed like a hollow and very unsatisfying victory.

"I'm glad you're going to be okay," I told him softly...And I meant it. I never wanted to ever see him get hurt. I could feel the sting of tears beginning in my eyes, however, and I wasn't going to let this man see how much what he had said had hurt ME. I still had some pride left. "Goodbye, Brian."

"You're leaving just like that?" he asked me in astonishment as I turned to head back into the suite through the sliding glass door.

"Yeah, just like that. If you need anything, just use the help station." I nodded over at the display, inches away from where Brian was sitting. My father had thought of every technological advance he could think of, including an "LCD Assistance Center" built into the exterior wall of the balcony so guests could literally obtain whatever they needed at the touch of a button without even going back into their suites.

"Anything?" he inquired softly, no hint of smugness in his voice now.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean," I told him a little sharply, tired of this game now. "I have to go." And before he could say anything else, I quickly disappeared inside. I was back out in the hallway in record time; as I leaned against the wall, I let a deep breath out, actually relieved that I wouldn't have to see Brian's face now on a daily basis during the rest of his stay while I was on lifeguard duty. Or was I?


	9. Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

_Brian solicits an unlikely source to help in his bid to pursue his blond lifeguard; Justin ponders what to do about his ever-increasing attraction to Brian._

* * *

_Same Time..._

Brian's mouth gaped open as he watched Justin make good on his promise and leave. What the fuck just happened? He was being turned down for sex? That _never_ happened to him. He was always the one to reject someone, not the other way around. He groaned as he shifted in his chair, partly from the dull pain in his foot, but also from his still painfully-hard cock. Holding Justin in his arms and kissing him seemed to have that effect on him, even more so than with other men.

He heard the suite's door closing quietly and knew that Justin had, indeed, left. And now, with the added problem of his foot, he was going to be out of commission when it came to surfing for the next few days; maybe even until his visit was over. He closed his eyes, hearing the sounds of the beach below: the seagulls, the excited shrieks of children, the crashing of the waves, an occasional slapping of a volleyball from a court nearby. What had started out as a wonderful way to de-stress and enjoy one of his favorite pastimes had deteriorated and evolved into something much different.

"Aaargh!" He growled as he shook his head. Justin both exasperated as well as impressed him with his tenacity and his stubbornness. And while he had been telling the truth when he told Justin that he enjoyed a challenge, that was only part of it. He was finding himself wanting to learn more about this particular young man, about what made him tick, what his hopes and dreams were, and what he enjoyed. He already knew he had a definite passion - and aptitude - for art. But apart from that, and the fact that he had a sharp sense of humor (and didn't care much for short jokes), what exactly did he know about him? All he knew was that he would certainly like to find out more. But how?

He brushed his hand through his hair restlessly. Gingerly swinging his legs around, he made sure to put weight only on his right foot as he stood up a little unsteadily at first and held onto the arm of the chaise and then the wall before hopping over to the sliding glass door and entering his suite. Sitting down heavily on the wicker couch, he took a few moments to catch his breath. _Damn stingray_. Well, if that fucker thought it would stop him from enjoying the rest of his vacation, it had another thing coming. Letting out a single, deep breath, he reached over to press the LCD display for the assistance center that was built into the side table.

"Yes, Mr. Kinney, how may I help you?" a cultured voice responded; he had to say - he was impressed that they bothered to check the caller ID before they answered. The ability to identify which guest was calling was one more feature that Craig Taylor had installed in all the rooms to make his establishment stand out from the rest of the others.

"Yes, could you please transfer me to the surfer shop?"

"Yes, Sir, one moment, please," she told him; a few seconds later, he could hear the phone ringing.

"Surfer shop, Emmett Honeycutt speaking."

Brian ignored the way-too-bright chirp on the other end as he replied, "Honeycutt, come to my room."

There was a pause on the other end. "Uh..."

"Brian Kinney," Brian said with thinly-veiled impatience. "1287. How fast can you get here?"

"Do I...Uh, need to bring anything?" was the hopeful reply. He could hear a definite sense of barely-concealed excitement on the other end.

"Just get your flashy ass over here!"

Brian slammed the phone down before Emmett had a chance to respond, leaving the other man open-mouthed and thoroughly flummoxed.

* * *

Emmett looked at the suite number twice to make sure he had the right one before he knocked, still wondering what the 'surfer god' wanted with him.

"Just open the fucking door," was the growl from the other end. "Can't you see it's not shut?"

_Okey, dokey,_ Emmett thought wryly as he pushed the door open to enter. He couldn't help gawking at the ostentatious surroundings, having never been in one of the exclusive, private guest suites before. His room that the resort supplied for him was adequate and comfortable, but nothing like this lavishly-appointed one. There was none of the kitschy-type furnishings here that you normally spotted in a guest room. Everything was obviously high quality and well-made for the more privileged guests.

"Do you mind?" he heard a voice say as he blinked to come out of his half-trance. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and for the first time noticed Brian sitting in a butternut-colored, leather recliner in the corner of the open great room. The sliding glass door to the outside was open, letting in a light breeze amidst the sound of the crashing waves nearing high tide. "Sit down."

Emmett nodded as he scooted in a little closer and took a seat on the edge of the couch nearest to Brian. "You commanded me to grace you with my presence, so here I am," Emmett joked. Brian, however, didn't crack a smile, so he settled on a different topic.

"How's the foot?" he asked curiously, noticing the other man cradling a towel under it. He had to admit - even injured the man was extremely handsome with his lightly-muscled arms, long legs, and bronze colored skin.

"How do you _think_ it feels after having the equivalent of a porcupine quill stuck in it?" he groused with a huff. "It's damn painful; although not as bad as before," he conceded as he recalled how this other man had had a small part in that. "Thanks for helping Justin with the water earlier," he grumbled. "It did help."

Emmett nodded, still not sure why he had been summoned here. "I'd do anything to help him," he replied sincerely.

Brian nodded, pleased. That was what he had been hoping. "Good. Because you're about to get a chance to do just that."

Emmett frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You and he are friends." At least Brian had guessed as much; he had observed them together on more than one occasion, and they always seemed quite chummy or were laughing and joking with each other.

"Yes," Emmett responded as if that was a forgone conclusion. "What exactly do you _want_, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian shook his head. "Fuck that. Brian."

Emmett nodded. "Okay, Brian, then. What do you want with me? And what does this have to do with Justin?" he asked, somewhat suspicious now. He always had possessed a certain protectiveness when it came to his friend.

"I just want some information, Honeycutt, that's all; don't get your panties in a twist."

"What kind of information?" Emmett asked, a little miffed by how the other man seemed to make him feel about ten inches tall. Maybe he would help him, and maybe he would not. He was beginning to see how Justin could get irritated with this man.

Brian pondered how to answer that without appearing _too_ interested. "I...just want to know more about Justin; what he likes to do, what his goals are. I can't believe he wants to be the next Big Kahuna for the rest of his life."

"He doesn't," Em confirmed. "He's much too ambitious and talented for that. Although his father probably wouldn't mind." Emmett winced. "Pretend you didn't hear me say that; I need my job, as menial as it is."

"What the fuck does _that_ mean?" Brian probed.

Emmett sighed, figuring someone like Kinney wouldn't let that go. "Well, he has accepted - rather reluctantly - his son's sexuality, but he thinks Justin's wasting his time by pursuing art as a career. From what Justin's told me, he doesn't feel his son can make a living by - as he points it - drawing 'pretty pictures' or sketching landscapes that are sold at starving artist sales."

Brian bristled; his previous opinion of his client apparently was accurate. "What an asshole," he growled. "Justin is a very talented artist. He is not some cookie-cutter drone who would spend his life cranking out some tourist shit."

Em peered over at him in grudging astonishment. "No, he isn't. But how would YOU know that?"

"I saw some of his work before dinner last night," Brian explained. "The painting and sketches out in the hallway near the dining room. He's fucking amazing. He could get a job as an artist in a lot of professions." _Even working for me_, Brian thought to himself. _He would put a lot of my own seasoned employees to shame._

Emmett nodded, silently encouraged by this man's praise of Justin's work. Something told him he wasn't just an admirer of his art, either. It seems he may have just been correct about him after all. "I agree," he told Brian. "But I think his father would be more than happy to just let him be a career lifeguard."

"Well, his father is full of shit," Brian told him flatly without any reservation. "And I'm not going to waste any more breath on him."

"Won't get an argument out of me," Emmett agreed. He paused. "So what exactly do you want with me, Brian? And what does this have to do with Justin?"

Brian pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to answer that without coming across as some lovestruck - or at least _lust-struck - _fag. "Presently I'm not exactly on Justin's friends list," he began as Emmett guffawed softly.

"No, you're not," he told Brian wryly. He wasn't sure how much Justin wanted him to know, but he felt a certain allegiance to his friend. "He told me about your lunch. For someone who supposedly admires his talent, you sure are good at making him feel like a little child."

"Well, he wasn't exactly displaying his more mature traits during lunch, either," Brian felt a need to point out. He sighed, however, as he admitted, "I guess I could have treated him a little differently, though."

Emmett's right eyebrow lifted in surprise; he never thought he would hear that sort of acknowledgement come out of this guy's mouth. "Why does that matter to you?" he asked him without preamble.

Brian inhaled a slow breath through parted lips to build up some courage before letting it out; this was a whole new territory for him. "Because," he began tentatively, "...I care about him. I'd like to get to know him better." _There, it was out; that hadn't been quite as bad as he would have feared._

"Get to know him better?"

Brian snorted. "What are you, a parrot? Yes, yes, I just told you! I want to find out more about him. What kind of food he likes. What he likes to do besides draw. What his background is. What his ambitions are. That's where YOU come in."

"Me. Why don't you just talk to _him_? That's what most people do when they want to get to know each other."

"Justin isn't exactly talking to me at the moment," Brian countered. "He came by a little while ago to check up on me, and I think that only made things worse."

Emmett frowned. "How so?"

Brian exhaled a heavy breath; this wasn't getting anywhere. "It doesn't matter. I don't really even know what happened. All I DO know is that we seem to keep getting off on the wrong track, and I want to change that."

Emmett scrutinized the other man carefully. He wasn't sure just what to make of Brian Kinney yet, but there was something in his voice that almost sounded contrite. Hadn't he himself told Justin that he thought Kinney liked him? Perhaps it was time to give Justin a nudge in the right direction, especially if Kinney's desire to treat Justin as more than just a one-time diversion was the truth.

"Okay, let's say I believe you. What can I do about it?"

"Well, you work in a surfer shop. How much experience do you have around the ocean? Do you have CPR training?"

Emmett laughed. "Well, I don't have much occasion to play rescuer inside the shop - not unless someone locks themselves in the restroom."

Brian sighed. "Will you please just answer the fucking question?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Emmett huffed. "_No_, Brian, I don't have CPR training; although I'm damned brilliant at mouth-to-mouth if you ever need a replay of the other day." He smirked at him.

"Sorry, Honeycutt, been there, done that." Well, that was true enough, but he suspected when it came to Justin he would not grow tired of practicing...and practicing...and practicing... "So you're not certified to be a lifeguard?"

Emmett snorted. "No, not by a long shot." Emmett shook his head, wondering where this was all leading to. "What the hell are you driving at? Just spit it out."

Brian sighed. "Okay, this is what I need. And your job is to tell me how I can get it."

* * *

_Next Morning..._

Mom passed the cereal over to me as I sat down at the private dining table. "Honey, I heard what happened yesterday with Mr. Kinney when he was out surfing. How bad a sting was it?"

"Not too bad," I told her as I covered a yawn with my hand, wondering how she had found out. "He'll be sore for a few days, but the barb didn't remain embedded in his foot. He was resting pretty comfortably last night when I saw him, so unless something changes he should be okay in a couple of days." _Oops._

Sure enough, my mother eyed me from across the table as she digested what I had said. Thank God my dad wasn't around, or I'd probably be getting the fifth degree to go along with the stare. "You went to his room?"

My face warmed as I thought back to the two of us going hot and heavy on the chaise lounge; at least at first. "Yeah," I told her, trying to sound nonchalant. "I just wanted to check on him after I treated him down on the beach. I _was_ the lifeguard on duty, you know."

She smiled at me; a sort of _I'm not quite buying that_ _story _kind of smile. Aloud, however, she replied, "That was considerate of you, Honey. I'm glad he's doing better. I understand those stings can be quite uncomfortable - and even serious sometimes."

I nodded, relieved that she wasn't making a big deal out of it, as I stuffed some Cheerios into my mouth in a not-so-subtle sign for my mother not to dwell on the topic. "Where's Dad?" I asked with my mouth half-full in an attempt to change the subject.

"He had to meet with his insurance agent this morning," she informed me as I nodded. That was fine with me; having my father away for breakfast normally meant less drama and more peacefulness would prevail.

"So you don't think Brian will need to be seen by the doctor?"

I shook my head, groaning internally that she hadn't moved on from the situation with Brian. "No. Not in town, anyway. Dr. Fugate can see him if he gets worse. But I think he'll be fine in a few days with a little rest as long as he stays off the foot." That thought inexplicably filled me with sadness, though, because I realized in a few days Brian would be gone and quite possibly never coming back. As exasperating as the man was, I had to admit I _was _attracted to him - and that I would miss seeing him.

My mother nodded thoughtfully as she took a sip of her coffee. I thought I saw a gleam in her eye as she suggested, "Well, maybe you should go check on him occasionally just the same. After all, he IS staying in one of the VIP guest suites._"_

I knew those guests were always treated to the very best, but why was my mother suggesting I do it? "Mom," I protested. "That's what the housecleaning and wait staff are for. He has the assistance center at his beck and call; let him contact one of THEM. I have lifeguard duty, remember?"

"I know," she told me as she eyed me quietly. "Justin?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm...Sorry that you didn't get the summer job you really wanted. I know you never intended on being a lifeguard here all summer, but I'm sure your father appreciates it."

I couldn't help scoffing softly at that statement. My father might have needed a lifeguard, but I was just a convenience to him in that regard; he knew my true passion lay with my art, although he never thought I could make a living at it. I sighed. "Mom, you know he thinks I'm wasting my time with going to art school in the fall."

"That's not true, Honey!" she insisted to me. "He thinks you're very talented."

I rolled my eyes skeptically. "I doubt that. There's a big difference between doodling, as he calls it, and making a living at it. I don't think he has that much faith in me at all, Mom."

She eyed me sympathetically from across the table. "Give him time, Justin. He's worked hard all his life - and put a lot of money into this place to make it successful. He's always been more of a 'hands-on' type of person. He's never been what I would call a cultured person who appreciates the arts. He's paying for you to go to school, Sweetheart. That should mean something. Prove to him just how wrong he is."

"_Part_ of my school," I reminded her. I had a partial scholarship, also, based on my SAT scores and GPA from high school. I doubt if dear old Dad had had to pay for the full ride, he would have done it. After all, he wasn't contributing toward the used car I so badly wanted to have. The thought of commuting from here by bus to school every day, carrying an art portfolio, books, and other supplies, didn't make for a very happy picture. That was the main reason why I had agreed to lifeguard in the first place; at least it would give me some money toward a used mode of transportation.

My mother nodded in acknowledgment. "Okay; part of it." She opened her mouth as if she were about to say something else, but stopped.

I frowned. "What?" I could see the hesitation on her face. "Mom?"

"Nothing," she initially said before she let out a deep breath. "Justin, are you sure this is what you want to do? Couldn't you maybe add a minor to your studies just to be safe? Like maybe business...or even art history...something to fall back on, just in case."

I looked at her aghast as I scooted back from the table and stood up.

"Justin...I only meant..."

"I have to go, Mom, or I'll be late for my _important_ job," I told her tersely, shaking my head in aggravation as she sputtered an apology. I turned and grabbed my windbreaker, water bottle, sunglasses, and sun blocker and rushed out before she could reply further, ignoring her calling my name as I slipped out the private back door of the dining room on the way to the beach.


	10. Fun, Fun, Funnel

_Brian puts his "I don't do dates" date into motion to woo a certain blond. Will he be successful at last or strike out again?_

* * *

_Three Days Later_

Lost in thought, I trudged through the path of gritty sand between the dune grasses and headed toward my perch for the day - the same one I would be virtually imprisoned by for the next couple of months. I was surprised that Brian had left me alone for the past few days; I didn't run into him in the dining room, nor did I see him when I exited my suite to come out to the beach each morning.

And as much it pained me to admit it, I kind of missed seeing him out on his surfboard and hearing his patronizing, conceited, and snarky comments; while the man seemed to excel at irritating me just for the fun of it, at least he had helped to enliven things up somewhat during my tedious duties. It was almost getting so bad now that I hoped for an outbreak of shark attacks or even a red algae scare. At least that would provide a little excitement.

I sighed as I reached my station, frowning as I heard noises coming from above me. I looked up to observe Zipper setting up the large shade umbrella above the lifeguard's chair. He glanced down at me and smiled. "Hey, Matey," he teasingly greeted me. "What's up, Dude?" He waggled his pinkie and index fingers at me.

I wrinkled my nose up as that just reminded me of someone else I was trying to forget. "Cut out the surfer crap, Zipper," I groused in irritation as I ascended the steps to the balcony. "What are you doing up here?"

"Reporting for duty, Captain," he continued facetiously with a short salute as I dropped my supplies down on the small, white, wooden table next to the patrol chair.

"I'm not in the mood, Zipper," I warned him as I reached for the sun blocker and opened up the cap to start liberally applying some of the white lotion onto my left arm. "Go play with a shark somewhere."

"Hey," he retorted. "That's no way to talk to a fellow lifeguard. What got shoved up _your_ ass this morning?" He arched one eyebrow at me questioningly.

_More like what DIDN'T_, I couldn't help thinking. Aloud, I grumbled in half apology, "I'm just not in a very good mood today."

He huffed. "No shit. But you're still going to get a reprieve today. Here." He reached over to snatch a white envelope off the arm of the chair; it was emblazoned with the resort's letterhead in the corner. He handed it to me as I noticed my first and last name written on the front in a nondescript print, but nothing else.

I scrunched up my face in confusion. "What's this?"

He shrugged. "I don't go reading sealed mail," he told me mysteriously. I thought I saw just the hint of amusement on his face as I peered over at him suspiciously before ripping the end open and sliding out a matching, folded piece of the resort's stationery. I could feel the heat of Zipper's stare on me as I unfolded it and began to read the short, cryptic message printed on the paper:

_You have the day off. Meet me at the boardwalk by the funnel cake stand. Let loose a little and have some fun for a change (if you can). You won't regret it. _

I held the piece of paper in my hand as I stared over at a stony-faced Zipper. "Who wrote this?" It certainly wasn't my father. The mere thought almost made me laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it. And the only other person I could think of had been studiously ignoring me.

The older man had the gall to shrug nonchalantly as he told me, "Don't know. It was here when I got here."

I sighed in barely-concealed impatience. "Well, you have to know something; you weren't scheduled to work in my place," I pointed out.

He placed his arm around my shoulder as he said, "Justin, my boy, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I am being more than well-compensated for taking over for you today, and your old man won't even notice who's minding the store, so to speak. You know he never comes out here on the beach; he leaves that up to us peons instead. So just enjoy it."

I had to agree with that; my father didn't like getting sand in his shoes or being subjected to shrieking kids as they played in and out of the waves; he was almost as pale as me, because he rarely spent any time out in the sun, preferring instead to sit under one of the back patio's bar umbrellas while he sipped a glass of Chivas Regal. That was the extent of his 'strenuous beach activities.' _Still..."_I don't know..."

Zipper harrumphed. "Justin, you're a smart kid, but right now you're acting like an idiot," he told me as I shot him a glare. "Now GO!" He gave me a firm but not overly aggressive push toward the wooden stairs as I finally nodded in acquiescence. I had to admit; the idea of just having the day off to enjoy as I saw fit sounded heavenly right now, but I still wanted to know who my benefactor was. It was probably Daphne, I decided, although I wondered how much money she had to fork over to actually pay for Zipper to replace me for the day. Perhaps I could give her my day's pay to help make up for it. She knew how miserable I was not being to work on the boardwalk instead of here at the lifeguard station, since I had talked to her by phone last night. I had intentionally left Brian out of the conversation, however.

"Okay," I told him as he smiled at me in approval. Grabbing my supplies since I knew I would be in the sun quite a bit, I headed back down the way I had come, not noticing Emmett watching me from the door of the surfer shop with a smile on his face as I turned in the direction of the boardwalk located several hundred feet away.

* * *

Arriving a few minutes later, I entered by the main entrance, hearing the familiar sound of the somewhat tacky, piped-in calliope music blaring from the loudspeakers and the unmistakable smell of cotton candy, steak sandwiches, and salt air. Even though it was barely 9:15 in the morning, people were already heading down from the parking lot located near the entrance; I followed a steady stream of camera packing, overweight tourists wearing flowered Hawaiian shirts and too-tight shorts as we walked single file toward the main part of the pier and boardwalk, dotted on both sides with food and game booths, tourist shops, and the ever-present caricature artist stands that I had hoped to occupy for the summer. I sighed as I envisioned myself sitting next of one of the easels, drawing frequently and getting paid to do what I actually loved. I had always envied those kinds of people who got paid to do what they enjoyed anyway, but it seemed the fates had conspired against me, at least for the summer.

Finally freed from the narrow walkway heading onto the boardwalk, I relished the more open space as I headed toward the funnel cake booth, craning my neck to look for Daphne. The shop where she worked was before I would reach the funnel cake stand, however, so perhaps she was intending on my joining up with her there.

I could see the metal display stand of hats and sunglasses already perched just outside the shop's door, so I knew it was open as I approached it. Heading inside the small confines of the souvenir shop, it didn't take me long to spot her long, wavy, flowing brunette hair, tucked behind a pink visor as she rang up a sale for a customer. Her eyes met mine as she handed a paper bag to the customer and smiled at me.

"Hey, Justin!" she called over to me as I smiled back at her in return. "This is a nice surprise! You mean your father let you out of your cage for the day? I'm shocked. How'd you manage that?"

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Wasn't it you that sent me that note?"

Daphne shook her head. "What note?"

I handed her the envelope I still had clutched in my hand as I watched her read the message before she shook her head. "It wasn't from me," she confirmed. "What's it mean?"

"Well, apparently someone paid for Zipper to take my place as lifeguard today, but I don't know who it is."

She grinned. "Only one way to find out," she said, her eyes lighting up with curiosity as she slid out from behind the counter.

"You can't go with me!" I warned her. "You have to stay here at the store."

She huffed in disappointment. "Fuck," she conceded before her face broke out into a devious smile. "But I can still watch; it's not that crowded yet. Maybe you have a secret admirer, Justin."

I snorted; that was typical Daphne. She was always the romantic, sappy one. "Give me a break," I told her as she shrugged. I let out a deep breath, my pulse speeding up just a bit at the unlikely thought. "Well, like you said; only one way to find out."

Her eyes twinkled as I bid her goodbye. "I want to know all the details later!" she yelled after me as I rolled my eyes. I turned around briefly to notice her watching me; she gestured with her hands in a sort of 'go on,' shooing motion as I shook my head in exasperation and proceeded up to the funnel cake stand, painted a bright yellow with big, bright, red letters.

I looked around at the six patrons in line, as well as in the immediate vicinity, disappointed that I didn't recognize anyone; nor did anyone approach me or even give me a second glance. "What the fuck," I muttered under my breath.

I was glad to be away from my lifeguard duties for the day, but I still had no idea what was going on. My perplexed state must have shown on my face, because all of a sudden I heard someone shouting, "Hey, Golden Boy!"

I turned to stare over at the man behind the funnel cake booth, wearing a white, cotton, sailor-type cap and a matching, white, apron, smudged abundantly with flour and what appeared to be strawberry stains. "You a lifeguard?"

I gave him a 'duh' sort of look, since I was wearing my obligatory uniform swim trunks with the hotel's 'tortoise' logo on them, clearing identifying my position at the resort. We lifeguards were akin to ants scurrying around the beach, there were so many of us needing to watch the beach that you would have to be a box turtle with your head in the sand not to know who we were. But I bit my tongue as I nodded back at him.

He nodded curtly as everyone turned to look at me curiously; my face warming over all the attention as he told me, "This is for you." He reached under the stand to bring out a plain, white box that I recognized normally held a full-sized funnel cake in it. "Well? It won't bite and I don't have all day. I've got other customers. Take it."

Biting my lower lip, I nodded as I walked up and took it out of his hands, instinctively realizing by the weight of it that it did, indeed, hold one of my favorite treats inside. I turned and headed over to a nearby, round wooden table, scooting onto one of the curved benches to open up the box and peer inside.

It did contain a funnel cake inside, just as I hoped, covered on top with plenty of juicy strawberries and powdered sugar, my favorite kind. I smiled in delight as I reached down and pulled an obscenely large piece off to stuff it in my mouth, looking around to find out who my benefactor might be as I chewed. "Mmmm," I couldn't help moaning; it was still warm and just the way I liked it. I had sprinted out of the resort this morning with just a piece of buttered toast, so the confection tasted especially wonderful to me.

Licking my fingers to rid myself of the sweet, sticky residue a few seconds later, my glance finally fell upon a familiar person watching me, and all at once it suddenly made perfect - but peculiar - sense as Brian Kinney smirked back at me from his place several yards away. Somehow he had arranged to have a portable gazebo set up at the far end of the pier, replete with gauzy, white curtains that were fluttering from the soft breeze blowing in from the ocean; he was sitting on one of a pair of padded, chaise lounges set up inside, and I could make out a drink of some kind in his hand. There appeared to be a long table behind him, but I couldn't see what was lying on top of it. A portable, metal fence had been erected around it, presumably as a subtle declaration that his 'private oasis' at the boardwalk was off limits to everyone else.

I rolled my eyes, unable to resist smiling back at him, as he crooked his right index finger and signaled for me to join him. Making sure to gather up my funnel cake, I walked down the wooden boardwalk to join him, slipping between a slight, open crack in the metal fence to slide inside the perimeter.

"Tell me you didn't walk here on that foot," were the first words out of my mouth as I sat down on the other chaise and placed the funnel cake next to me.

He snorted. "Please. I'm not an invalid any longer; I'm bad as new," he quipped. "Your Daddy's doc gave me the all-clear signal."

"You did walk here, then?" I repeated. I was glad to hear that his foot was doing a lot better, but not so sure he should be walking on it so much just yet.

"Pedal ride," he told me as I nodded in understanding; there were muscled, tanned, strong-legged guys who made a fairly decent income by pedaling tourists around the hard, sandy part of the beach and the pier/boardwalk for those who were too lazy - or unwilling - to trudge up and down the beach from the various resorts and hotels to the more commercial areas; they were the only transportation operators allowed to actually ride up onto the boardwalk to drop off and collect fares. "It was a sacrifice, sitting there in the seat while they did all the work and I stared at their ass...But I made the best of it."

"Uh, huh," I commented dryly. "So _you_ were the one who paid Zipper to take my place today, Cleopatra?"

He nodded at me with a grin as he took another drink from his glass.

"Why would you do that? That had to be expensive, Brian." I glanced around at the gazebo he had somehow managed to make appear, seemingly out of thin air; I could see now where there was a virtual gourmet buffet spread out on the narrow table behind us. All of this had to have cost a pretty penny, too. "And this..." I furrowed my brow as I fixed my gaze back on him. "I don't even want to try and figure out how you managed it. I don't understand."

"I have to eat," he told me with exasperating nonchalance. "And you wouldn't want me to get all sunburned, would you? Just because all the peasant tourists like to parade around looking like red-and-white-striped barber poles on the beach doesn't mean that I want to look like that, too."

I giggled at the thought. "I don't think you have to worry about that," I maintained as I admired the bronze, sun-kissed glow of his arms, perfectly accentuated by the white, sleeveless wifebeater shirt he was wearing with a pair of skinny blue jeans. I blushed as I realized he could tell I was staring at him as I mumbled, "You already have a tan."

"Glad you noticed," he murmured as my eyes locked onto his and he held them there for a few seconds before I averted my gaze shyly. "So...are you going to help me eat some of this shit?" he asked softly.

I smiled as my eyes fell upon the funnel cake box beside me. "I already had some of my dessert," I admitted as I heard him chuckle at me.

"I know. That doesn't surprise me somehow."

I grinned back at him sheepishly before a notion struck me. "By the way, was it just a big coincidence that you just happened to know about my favorite kind of funnel cake here at the boardwalk?" My eyes narrowed in suspicion; no, that wasn't too likely, I decided. "Just who is your accomplice here, Brian? You couldn't have accomplished this all by yourself. You would have had no way of knowing about..."

"Does it matter, Justin?" he interrupted me with a sigh. "Can't you just enjoy this for what it is?"

I placed my hands on my knees as I asked, "That depends. Just what IS this, Brian? We didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances the other night." I thought he actually looked a little uncomfortable as he shrugged.

"I just thought you might like to have one day without being under your father's authoritarian thumb, that's all. But if you'd rather go back and play Baywatch Hottie for the day, well, then..."

My face grew heated over his latest nickname for me as I shook my head. "No," I hastily told him. "I wouldn't." He smirked at me, knowing full well that would be my response. I sighed, figuring I wasn't going to get much more of an answer out of him than that. "So what am I here for?"

"Excuse me?"

My blush deepened as I clarified, "What is on the agenda for my day off?"

"Well, first things first," Brian replied as I watched him reach underneath the chaise lounge and retrieve what looked suspiciously like a sketchpad. My eyes widened as I realized that was exactly what it was. Taped to the front of it was a box of graphite pencils and an eraser. "I don't know much about art supplies," he explained in reaction to the stunned look on my face. "But someone in the gift shop told me this would be good for sketching, so I took their word for it. Will these do for today?"

I took the supplies from him and stared down at the high-quality paper and the expensive pencils; both were way out of my budget and highly prized by artists. "You mean...these...are for _me_?" I whispered in awe as my fingers brushed over the cover.

"Well, I could draw a mean stick figure with them, but that would be a waste of good paper," he told me teasingly as I lifted my gaze to smile a thanks at him. He grinned at the look of delighted astonishment on my face. "So yeah, those are for you. I figured you might want to draw some landscapes today - or maybe some tourists...or maybe a funnel cake or two," he added teasingly. "Maybe even Flipper, if he happens to swim by and gives us the bird, uh, flipper."

_Or you_...came instantly to my mind as I laughed at his joke. From the moment I had seen Brian out there riding a wave, his body wet from the spray and standing so fluidly on top of his surfboard, I had been itching to draw him - over and over again. Would I perhaps get the chance today? Better yet, would I have the nerve to ask him? Because there was no way he wouldn't know if that was what I was doing; whenever I draw something, it has my complete attention, and with him I knew I wouldn't be able to drag my eyes away from him until I was finished.

"What?" I heard him softly press as I blinked, unaware I had temporarily zoned out. The sights and sounds of the boardwalk came flooding back into my senses as I took a deep breath and focused my attention back on him. I couldn't resist the chance. "Can...Can I draw _you_?" I asked tentatively, holding my breath as he stared over at me with those enchanting, ever-changing eyes. I relaxed a little when I saw the familiar sardonic smirk appear on his face, guessing what his answer would be.

"I would expect nothing less than you wanting to draw perfection personified," he said as I snorted at the expected response before the two of us grinned at each other. "How do you want me?" he asked with a sultry tone. "Au natural?" I watched with wide eyes as he reached down to grab the waist of his navy swim shorts in an apparent attempt to facilitate the process.

"No!" I shouted a little too loudly as some nearby sun worshippers craned their heads to peer into the gazebo curiously, wondering what all the excitement was about. I lowered my voice as Brian chuckled, my face turning red again, as I told him, "I mean...I'll draw you later." I noticed I didn't really answer his question completely, however; the idea of having a chance to actually draw this stunning man completely nude made me horny with anticipation. I swallowed hard as he nodded back at me.

"Just as well," he told me, grinning widely back at me. "We're not staying here anyway; this is just for breakfast."

I frowned. "We're not? Then where...?"

He harrumphed. "You know, you ask a _lot_ of questions, Gid...uh, Taylor," he corrected himself as I flashed him a raised eyebrow in warning. "I have everything arranged for your day off; just let _me_ take care of it, okay?"

I squinted at him, the sun rising behind him and making it hard to peer directly at him. "I still don't understand why you're doing this."

I watched him hesitate for a moment before he seemed to come to a conclusion over the proper way to address that question as he responded, "I thought this might make up a little for the other day. I'm not _always_ a conceited jackass; just most of the time."

I had to snort at that before I asked tentatively, "Then...This is a date?"

He looked horrified at me. "No, it most certainly is NOT 'a date'! I do not 'do' dates; well, at least not any that don't have at least an 8" cock." He eyed me intently for a moment. "Justin...how b..?"

I huffed as he rolled his lips inward playfully. "Don't even go there," I replied evenly as I folded my arms across my chest. I admit I was innately curious as to what else this man had planned for our 'adventure' today, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to be penciled in as the main event. "I'm surprised you even have the gall to try and ask that after calling me Gidget all the time."

Brian chuckled at me, an almost musical sound that I found I couldn't be angry over. "Well, like I said before you have pretty big feet," he observed as he glanced down at my feet, currently clad in flip-flops. "So it goes without saying that you also have a big..."

"Aaargh!" I growled as I slapped my forehead with my left hand. "You are the most exasperating man I have ever_ met!_ Is that all you ever think about?!"

"I'm a healthy, red-blooded, fag; of course it is," he told me smoothly. But the twinkle in his eye and the lips rolled under told me otherwise. "Now let's eat... "

I frowned. How did he make THAT jump? "Excuse me?"

"We both have healthy appetites," he explained. "You like eating food and I like to eat..."

"Let's just skip that part," I quickly decided as I peered over at the narrow buffet-type table set up at the back of the gazebo. "What's in those?" I asked, looked at several silver, dome-covered dishes.

"Grab a plate and take a peek," he instructed me. "And bring me some coffee," he groused. "Please," he added as an afterthought as I opened my mouth to protest his 'demand.' "If I don't get caffeine in me soon, I'll have a bitch of a withdrawal headache."

"Is THAT why you're always so cranky?" I couldn't help asking as he glared over at me and I grinned sweetly back at him before rising to check out our breakfast spread.


	11. It's In His Kiss

_The boys' 'undate' continues. What else does Brian have in store for their adventure together? _

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I was stuffed to the gills, but in absolute heaven. Somehow Brian had managed to not only figure out my favorite kind of funnel cake, but also a lot of my most cherished breakfast foods: Belgium waffles with whipped cream and peaches, scrambled eggs, maple sausage links, and freshly-squeezed orange juice. I had eaten every bite, and had made a serious dent into the funnel cake, leaving about half of it for later. I noticed that Brian had eaten about an eighth of what I had: a few bites of egg and a couple of the links, proclaiming that with the maple enhancement they had tasted more like Aunt Jemima pancakes rather than any type of recognizable meat. But I had thought the entire meal had been absolutely heavenly.

Brian rose to his feet as he downed the last of his coffee and placed the mug back down on the buffet. "Enjoyed your meal, Dudley?" he asked me as I nodded with a smile. He nodded back at me. "Well, if you think you can get up now without too much waddling, let's get going. Don't forget your supplies."

I decided to overlook the 'waddling' comment as I asked, "Where are we...?"

Brian promptly cut me off by placing his hand across my mouth. "Will you shut up with the incessant questions already?" he groused. "Trust me; you'll like it, okay? Sheesh!"

He reached for my hand to place it in his and began to pull me out of the gazebo; that immediately shut me up then, because I was too busy marveling at the feel of his hand in mine. I was surprised, too, that he didn't let it go as we strolled down the boardwalk toward the entrance. It felt amazing, and my whole body seemed to come alive just with that one, simple gesture. I looked over at Brian, but he seemed lost in thought as we walked by the shop that Daphne worked in; I stole a peek over at it to see her standing at the entrance with her mouth gaping open. I thought she was about to say something, so I quickly placed my index finger over my lips in a plea for her to remain silent as I smiled at her like a giddy fool. She gave me a subtle 'thumbs up' and a beaming smile of approval as we walked by, knowing that I would fill her in later on exactly who the Greek God was that I was currently holding hands with.

A few minutes later, Brian led me down to the parking lot, still holding onto my hand as we walked companionably together amidst row after row of vehicles. Finally, he let go of my hand as we stopped - right next to a shiny, black, bad-ass Harley Davidson motorcycle.

I stood there with my mouth agape as he turned to me and asked with that ever-present smirk on his face, "Ever ridden before, Justin? A bike, I mean."

I promptly turned red again over his double entendre; he seemed to excel at embarrassing me - and taking inordinate delight in doing so. But I was too busy ogling our apparent transportation at the moment to care. "No," I replied as I stared at it in awe; there were two helmets dangling from the seat back, and a black, leather, fringed saddle bag on the rear. "You're going to take me for a ride?" I asked, before I realized how I had phrased it.

Brian waggled his eyebrows at me and smiled broadly. "That's the idea," he told me. "At least I certainly hope so," he added huskily as I felt the heat spread throughout my body as an image sprung to my mind. He took the bag of supplies I had with me and stowed them securely in the oversized saddlebag.

"Grab a helmet; I hate wearing the damn things, but it's the law here. We're going for a ride up the Pacific Coast Highway. You haven't seen the ocean until you've seen it from the back of a Harley." My eyes lit up as I reached for one of the helmets and strapped it on my head as Brian did the same; a few seconds later, he hopped on and started the bike up, motioning for me to climb on behind him. Placing my hands around his waist, I thought I would die of bliss as he leaned back against my chest and I pulled him more tightly against me. The feeling of his muscled body against mine was indescribably delicious as he shouted back at me over the din of the engine, "Hang on!" just before he gave the bike some gas and it began to move. He slowly proceeded out of the parking lot and then turned onto the two-lane boulevard heading out toward the Pacific Coast Highway, instructing me to lean my body in the direction of our turns as he sped up and roared off.

It was like a feeling I had never felt before as we rode; a feeling of freedom and independence, and being with Brian on the back of such a magnificent bike under a warm, clear, bright blue sky was like being unfetterd from my tedious cage back at the resort as I marveled at the magestic ocean view beside us.

After several minutes, Brian turned his head to peer at me. "Doing okay?" he shouted as I nodded back at him with a smile and gripped his waist tighter. Finally, I saw a sign stating that we were entering the town of Carmel, and soon we had slowed down to a more reasonable speed as he stopped in the middle of the quaint, downtown shopping area and pulled over to the curb to stop.

Turning the motor off, he set the kickstand down and hopped off as he pulled his helmet off, displaying a mass of tangled, tousled, brown hair, kissed with golden highlights under the mid-morning sun. I pulled my own helmet off as I twisted around to disembark, Brian grasping my waist to help me as I slid off. We stood there face to face for several seconds, as the mingling crowd around us completely disappeared, before I shyly smiled at him before he let go of me.

As we looked around, I wondered if I had affected Brian the same way that he had just affected me, but I soon discovered he had his eye on something else, at least temporarily, as he let out a whistle.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, an eager, excited lilt to his voice. "Would you look at those?" He grabbed my wrist and began to pull me toward a crowd gathered several yards away; blocking the entire downtown area were rows and rows of cars - expensive, vintage cars. Obviously we had hit upon some sort of car show, and by the look Brian had on his face, he was like a kid in a candy store. His entire face was lit up and his eyes were large and expressive as he grinned over at me from ear to ear. "Let's go take a look!"

* * *

Two hours later, we had managed to see all of the cars - and Brian had even persuaded one of the owners to take him for a ride while I happily investigated the myriad of artist galleries nearby. We met back up in front of a small café where the two of us drank some cappuccino and people-watched the 'snobby rich' walking by on the sidewalk for several minutes until it was time to head back out onto the highway, Brian having secured a boxed lunch for the both of us to consume later.

The highway wound around some of the most gorgeous scenery I had ever seen until we ascended to a higher altitude; that was when it became downright jaw-dropping as Brian turned off onto a dirt road that let him ride directly down onto the beach. He parked his bike near a shop that said "Boat rentals" as I looked at him questioningly.

"Ever been on one of those?" he asked me as I shook my head.

"Well, no time like the present!" I had just enough time to grab my supplies before he pulled me over to the rental place that resembled a medium-sized tiki hut. Ten minutes, two life jackets and a little verbal instruction later, we were out on the water, cruising at breakneck speed in a sleek racing boat, the water spraying up into our faces and the wind whipping around us as we took off for parts unknown.

Brian looked like a pro behind the wheel, however, as I sat beside him; his entire face was relaxed and his enthusiasm was contagious as we smiled over at each other, and I had to admit I was having a grand time.

After a while, he steered the boat toward a secluded cove and came to a stop near a small, hand-built pier. After anchoring the boat with a couple of ropes, he jumped out into the shallow water and turned to face me and held his arms out toward me, the only sounds now heard the lazy lapping of the waves and the seagulls circling overhead. I slid the sack of supplies onto my shoulder to shield them from any moisture before Brian grabbed me under the arms to help me down. We stood there in the water then, inches apart, and it was like I was controlled by a magnetic force as he pulled me closer to his body and kissed me, deeply and languidly under the lazy, noontime sky.

I gasped at the sensations flooding through me as I slid my arms around his waist and he did the same, our bodies virtually touching from head to toe. I could clearly feel his desire for me even through the wet denim as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding out to push inside my mouth and lick across my lower lip. It was the most amazing, sensuous, mind-blowing thing I had ever experienced, and his hands seemed to be everywhere on my body as I held on for dear life, afraid my legs would give out on me if he let me go.

Finally, trembling in his arms, we broke apart, my breathing labored as we waded ashore hand-in-hand, my precious bag of art supplies - and sun blocker - kept dry and secure as I held it above my waist.

The sand was coarser here but soft and warm as we walked on shore and collapsed onto the beach, both of us propping ourselves up by our elbows as we looked out onto the crystal-clear, blue water. We were completely hidden from where we sat companionably together, almost as if we were the only two people on Earth. Surprisingly, knowing that I was there all alone with this amazingly handsome, forceful man didn't make me scared or nervous; throughout our journey today he had slowly been opening up to me so I could see the 'real' Brian Kinney now - beauty, warts and all - and I was finding myself completely mesmerized by him instead of intimidated by him.

"It's so peaceful here," he murmured as I turned my head to look at him and nod in agreement. As if he were thinking exactly what I had been thinking, he added, "It's almost like we're the only two people in existence out here."

As I drunk in his classic, casual elegance - his clothing plastered to his skin like a custom-made glove, outlining every muscle and angle of his body - I couldn't help myself. "Brian, let me draw you," I whispered urgently, already glancing around to see where he could pose for me.

He looked into my eyes and I didn't notice one hint of ridicule there as he nodded back at me, seeming to instinctively understand what I needed as he stood up to pull his wet shirt over his head. He vigorously shook his head from side to side as water droplets scattered everywhere; I laughed as some of them sprayed into my eyes and he grinned down at me playfully.

My laughter died on my lips, however, as he stepped out of his flip flops and pulled the fly of his jeans apart to unzip them before, grasping the waistband, he pulled the constricting material - along with his briefs - down his long, tanned legs. Moments later, he had flung the water-laden clothing down onto the sand and stood there facing me, gloriously naked, unabashed and totally majestic-looking.

I found my eyes widening - and my mouth watering - at he stared unflinchingly into my eyes. "Where do you want me?" he asked seductively, the double meaning hanging heavy in the air as I cleared my throat to get my bearings.

I swallowed as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest before I finally responded, "Over on that rock." There was a large boulder that jutted out halfway into the water where Brian could pose; part of the island that curved around behind him would provide a perfect setting for my sketch. "But you'll need something underneath you, or it will get uncomfortable after a while. Wait a minute," I told him as I hurried down and, wading into the water, reached for a couple of the vinyl, padded boat cushions inside that could be used as a flotation device during emergencies. Heading back up to him, I wordlessly handed them to him.

He nodded as I watched him saunter like a graceful panther over to the rock and climb on top of it, setting the cushions down first. He seemed to instinctively know how I wanted him to pose as he sat down on top of it in profile and stretched his long, lean legs out in front of him, propping his upper body up by the palms of his hands as he faced out toward the ocean, his cock lying impressively against his thigh. "Like this?" he asked me softly as I eagerly nodded, reaching in to snag my sketchbook and pencils.

"Yes," I answered breathlessly. "That's perfect." _YOU'RE perfect, _I thought to myself as I flipped open my sketchbook and got to work; I was like a demon possessed as my fingers flew over the paper and Brian's magnificent form slowly began to come to life.


	12. Let Me Tell U 'Bout the Birds & the Bees

_The boys' private time together continues as they recreate one of cinema's greatest scenes (wink, wink). But what will happen when they get back to the resort?_

* * *

"Justin, are you finished yet?" Brian called over to me about thirty minutes later. "This rock is hard as a, well, rock," he grumbled. "I think my entire body is starting to go numb."

"Perfection takes time, Mr. Kinney," I teased him as I finished up the last touches on my sketch.

"I already _was_ perfection, remember?" he snarked as I grinned.

Taking pity on him, I finally replied after about another minute, "Okay, you can get down now; I think I can finish the rest on my own."

He groaned, stiff muscles protesting, as he climbed down from the boulder and shuffled over to me. He craned his neck and tried to see over the top of the sketchpad, but I quickly held it against my now bare chest (having taking off my windbreaker and shirt earlier) so he couldn't see it just yet, suddenly feeling it was important that he be pleased with the final product.

"Justin..." He complained as he flopped down next to me, completely uncaring that he was still totally nude as he sat beside me, cross-legged Indian style.

"Just a couple more minutes," I told him as, confident now that he couldn't peek, I proceeded to work on the sketch a little more.

Finally, I peered down at it, satisfied that it was going to be as good as I was going to get it. I secretly thought it was one of my best pieces, but how would Brian feel? I suddenly felt awkward as I tentatively held the pad out to him. "I'm done," I told him shyly as he took the pad from me and peered down into his likeness to study it.

A fairly uncomfortable silence prevailed - at least, it seemed that way to me - before at last his eyes lifted to bore into mine and he said, "It's not bad. The subject, of course, is amazing, so I'm not surprised."

I rolled my eyes as I took the sketchpad back and promptly smacked him on the head with it.

"Hey! You little shit!" he growled at me as he lunged toward me. "You're going to pay for that, Picasso!"

I laughed as I quickly dodged out of the way and stood up, dropping the sketchpad as I did so. "Oh, so now I'm Picasso, huh? Make up your mind! I did the best I could with what I had to work with!" I told him, laughing, as he quickly rose to his feet with an evil gleam in his eyes. "Brian..."

I turned around and began to run down the beach as fast as I could, but I was no match for my companion's longer legs as he quickly caught up with me and I fell down onto the sand as he pulled my legs out from under me; he somehow managed to turn me over as his body draped itself over mine.

"Gotcha, Gidget!" he crowed as I huffed at the name. The beaming smile of triumph on his face, however, dissolved into something else as he gazed at me intensely and gently wiped some hair back that was hanging in my eyes as he whispered, "Ever seen _From Here to Eternity_?"

I shook my head mutely, too captivated by his ever-changing eyes to say anything aloud, as he told me, "Well, we're about to do a recreation of one of its most famous scenes," before he leaned down and kissed me, right there on top of the gently lapping waves.

If I had thought the first kiss today was amazing, this skin-on-skin action quickly proved me wrong. I could feel the corded, hard muscles under my fingers as I gripped his biceps while we kissed, and his cock, which had been at half-mast earlier, was now fully primed and ready to perform, making me feel heady over the thought.

"Justin," I heard him whisper raggedly against my mouth as we finally broke off the kiss after rolling around a couple of times on the sand. "I want to fuck you." He tugged at the waistband of my shorts as we lay on our sides facing each other, my cock straining to be freed from the confines of the fabric. It was as hard and painful as Brian's by now, maybe more so. "Take them off," he commanded gruffly as my eyes flew open at the first touch of his hands fumbling to help me discard them.

"Brian..." My heart - and my libido - was screaming to do it, but inside I was petrified. Would I satisfy him? Would I fuck it up? Would I be able to do what he wanted me to do? Now wasn't exactly a good time to bring up the fact that I was less than experienced. And even I knew enough to know that we needed protection. I know _I _hadn't had any inkling of what my day would turn out to be this morning, so I didn't have any. Would he?

His hands gripped my waistband and began to forcefully pull them down; I found myself unable to stop him as he managed to peel them down my legs and free my jutting cock. I heard him suck in a breath as his eyes focused on my obvious desire for him. "Shit, Justin," he murmured as my face turned deep red over how intently he was staring at me 'down there.' "I was right before. You're certainly not small where it counts." He licked his lips as he promptly pushed me down onto my back and loomed over me. Before I knew what his intention was, he swooped down and took a swipe of my dick with his tongue and I moaned vocally at the exquisite feeling of hot wetness sliding up and down my flesh. _Oh, my God._ A few seconds later, I felt a pair of wet lips latch onto my cock and begin to suckle it, and I blindly reached out with my hands to try and find something to grab onto before I fell promptly into oblivion.

"Urggghhh," was the best I could utter as he began to slide his lips methodically up and down on my cock like some delectable lollipop; my body began to arch up and down in rhythm with his ministrations as he picked up speed and tempo. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking everything else out but those lips on my body and his hands now holding me down by the hips as I felt my body tightening like a screw. A couple seconds later, I cried out loudly before gushing down his throat like a geyser.

It took quite a while before I came out of my half-delirious state and began to realize where I was - and with whom - as I idly feathered the top of Brian's hair where his head still lay at my crotch, his hands holding onto my waist. My heart was beating like the wings of a hummingbird as my chest heaved in and out and I strove to slow my pulse back down.

Finally, he pulled himself up so we were face to face and shared another deep, toe-curling kiss with me as I tasted myself on his lips. It was a strange - but not unpleasant - sensation.

I could feel his cock, steel hard and throbbing against my body, as he twisted off me to rise to his feet and reached out his hand to me. I peered up at him through the late-afternoon sun before I placed my hand in his and allowed him to pull me up as well. "Come on," he whispered hoarsely as he stole one more, quick kiss from me. "I can't wait any longer."

He tugged me back urgently toward his pile of clothing, his target crystal clear, as he let go of my hand to rummage through his slowly-drying jeans pocket for the supplies he would need. Locating a condom and a small tube of lubricant, he turned back to me expectantly. I knew this was my last chance to explain to him.

He must have seen some hesitancy in my face as he said to me, "This is what you want." It was phrased as a half-statement, half-question as my heart thudded in my chest. God, I wanted this; of that much I was certain. My mouth dry with anticipation, all I could do was mutely nod back at him.

He knelt down onto the warm sand as he reached up to pull me down to join him so we were facing each other only a few inches apart; I could hear his soft pants escaping his partly-open lips and feel his breath on my face. My cock was already springing back into readiness as he wordlessly handed me the items we would need.

Feigning more experience and confidence than I actually felt, I tore open the condom packet and reached over with shaky hands to pull the latex down over his cock, my fingers brushing up against surprisingly silky, hot flesh as I managed to sheath his impressive member. I chanced to lift my eyes to look into Brian's then, noting how his irises had changed to a dark chocolate color and were dilated in arousal, making me feel like I was drowning in them as I swallowed over the intensity of his gaze.

"Justin..." He reached over then impatiently to grab the lube out of my hand as he lowered me with surprising gentleness to the ground, our cocks brushing up against each other. I moaned at the electric contact as he raised himself up onto his knees and I watched him open up the tube to squirt some on his fingers. As he stroked some of the lotion onto his dick, I found myself wishing it were my fingers instead; I blushed as he looked at me in such a way that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

As he draped his body over mine, I balled my hands into fists as I he swooped in to steal another kiss and I felt his left hand grasp my cock and squeeze it. I moaned a warning, afraid I might come right then and there just from that, before he thankfully removed his hand and I let out a breath of restraint.

It was short-lived, however, as he began to nuzzle my neck at the same time one liberally-coated finger found its way to my pucker; I sucked in a breath and jumped slightly as I felt its initial probe inside me, my eyes flying wide open to stare into Brian's.

The look on my face must have revealed what I hadn't been able yet to tell him, because I saw Brian furrow his brow as his finger stopped its exploration of my body. "Justin?"

I licked my lips, my breaths coming out in shallow pants, as I responded in a ragged whisper, "What?"

"You _have _done this before...right?"

I obstinately refused to be direct, too embarrassed to admit it as I answered obtusely, "Done what?"

Brian sighed. "You _know_ what. Have you been fucked before? Had a man's dick up your ass? It's not all roses and sunshine, you know. It fucking hurts, especially the first time."

I huffed as I stuck my lower lip out. "Well, duh; I guess having something as big as yours up MY ass _would_ hurt. You don't think I can take it?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "You're avoiding the question...which means that you haven't." He stilled his finger inside me to my great disappointment.

"No..." I practically howled in disappointment as he started to remove it; he looked down at me questioningly as I responded, "Please, Brian. How will I ever know what it's like otherwise? And...I don't want it to be with someone who doesn't care about me or how they treat me."

"Justin..."

"I want this," I whispered, my face reddening. I wasn't used to talking about sex, much less doing it.

Brian's eyes bored into mine. "Are you sure?"

Justin nodded. "You want me, too...don't you?" I hadn't even thought about that angle; perhaps Brian was just temporarily caught up in the moment and was being carried away by his lust and by how convenient I was. Maybe he didn't care _who_ the receptacle was. I scrunched up my nose at the thought of being compared to some sort of object instead of a person as I averted my eyes.

I felt Brian's hand grasp my chin and gently turn it until I was forced to look at him. "Justin...this isn't a case of me wanting you or not wanting you. I never force another guy to do anything he doesn't want to do. But...if it matters to you, yes, fuck yes, I want you. Can't you tell?" He glanced down to his cock, lying heavy and hard against my chest, and between that and the tone of his voice, I knew he was being truthful with me.

I nodded. "Brian...do it. Fuck me," I urged him as I gripped his biceps for support and stared resolutely into his eyes.

Finally I felt Brian's finger press back in deeper as I gasped; waiting for me to even out my breathing, I nodded my encouragement as he pressed another one into me. It felt incredibly, impossibly tight, but I was determined to endure anything and everything he was willing to give me as I whispered repeatedly in a hoarse voice, "Keep going, God, keep going..."

I bucked as he pressed in a little deeper and touched a part of me that made my entire body sing with pleasure. I cried out as he touched it again and I reached out to grab his other hand that was lightly caressing my belly; it was all too much sensual overload at one time, and I knew there was no way that I would last with him doing that. "Brian, no!" I screamed out a warning, wanting, _needing_, him inside me. "Please..." I whimpered as he finally seemed to understand. He stilled his stroking of my belly - as well as the fingers that were stretching me inside - as he slowly withdrew them to minimize any discomfort.

"Put your legs up on my shoulders," he huskily commanded as he leaned in closer. "And breathe, Justin; keep breathing, in and out."

My face coated with perspiration - and the water lapping at my back now as the waves flowed in and out toward an endless horizon of blue - I tried to focus on what Brian was saying as he lined himself up with my body and slightly pushed in. I gasped at the pain that shot through me at the sensation of incredible fullness as he began to stroke my chest with the back of his hand and murmur, "Breathe...relax. Let it go," he whispered soothingly. "It's only temporary."

My breath came out in short pants now as I strove to obey him as time seemed to stand still. He waited for me to accept the intrusion until I nodded up at him to continue before he arched up and pushed in more; I squinted my eyes shut at the pain, but held on to his arms as he pushed in deeper, both of us knowing it was the best way, until slowly the agony and feeling that I needed to push this ungodly large object out of me transformed into something much different, and my eyes opened in amazement. Brian's dick hit my sweet spot, and oh, how sweet it was! If I had thought his fingers had been magical, this was beyond comprehension. The corner of his mouth quirked up in understanding as he pulled out slightly and then thrust roughly back in, my fingers gripping his upper arms so tightly I knew they would leave marks on his skin afterward. But I couldn't help it; it was unlike any pleasure I had ever experienced in my life.

He began to piston in and out then as my body instinctively rose to meet his in a perfectly choreographed dance, gasps of pleasure replacing the grimaces of pain from before. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I kept murmuring as he sped up his tempo and leaned down to capture my lips in a kiss on the down stroke. My hands slid around to his slickened, muscled back to pull him in even tighter; my eyes a dark, smoky blue as they kept focused on his. I felt dizzy, elated, and gravity-free; it was as if he and I together, right then, right now, were the only things in existence as he took me to the absolute heights of erotic paradise.

Finally, my toes curled downward as I felt my entire body reaching an irretrievable crescendo and, with one loud scream of Brian's name, I erupted between us, trembling, quivering and utterly, totally, lost in in post-coital bliss.

Brian continued to pump in and out of me for a few seconds as I found one last ounce of strength to clench around his dick before he, too, let forth with a guttural cry and I felt him release his hot seed into the condom. He fell down on top of me, and it was all I could to weakly stroke his back up and down as he just lay there, as spent as I was.

Finally, he had to pull out and tie off the condom as he twisted off me to lie on his back; I lazily turned my head and had to giggle as he flung it out as far as he could to sea; seemingly as a souvenir for some lucky fish, although the sap in me tried not to think about some pelican swallowing it by mistake and choking on it. I watched it flow out with the tide, and realized if we didn't move soon, we might very well ride out along with it.

"Brian, we need to move," I told him as I prodded him in the side.

"NOW you say it," he quipped as I rolled my eyes.

"I mean, unless you want to ride out to sea without your board, we need to move back inland," I explained as he grinned.

Letting out a deep breath, he rose to his feet and pulled me up alongside him. Grabbing his pants, he plastered another death-defying kiss on my mouth for several seconds before, brushing some wet hair out of my eyes, we took off to gather up the rest of our clothing.

* * *

Ten minutes later, we had relocated further up the shoreline and I was lying with just my shorts on in Brian's arms and feeling like I was in heaven. There was just something about this man that made me feel so secure when he was holding me. I felt lazy and I felt warmth spreading throughout my body as I lay in the "V" of Brian's legs under a large palm tree; he had donned his blue jeans in deference to my worry that a stray boater would come by any minute and finding us pretending to recreate a scene from "Blue Lagoon."

The idea made me laugh out loud as Brian leaned down and whispered in my ear, "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking that if we had stayed the way we were earlier, someone might have thought we were doing another remake of "Blue Lagoon."

"Oh, really?" he replied dryly.

I nodded against his cheek, my hands covered his across my waist. "Uh, huh. Since I'm the blond, I would be, what was his name? The old guy, not the one in the new one."

"Christopher Atkins."

I twisted my head to peer into his eyes. "You watched that thing? Oh, that's right; you watched Gidget, and that movie has to be ancient."

"No, I did NOT watch it," he told me firmly. "I just happen to remember a lot of movie trivia, that's all."

I smirked at him, not quite sure I believed that, as I turned back into his arms and continued, "Well, I would be Christopher Atkins, since I have the blond hair and a wonderful body to wrap in the loin cloth." I grinned as he snorted, his breath warm against my ear. "And then, since you're the brunet, you would have to be..."

"Oh, no!" he told me as I giggled.

"But she was about your height," I pointed out as he began to tickle me in the ribs. I squealed and squirmed against his onslaught until he had managed to flip me over so I was draped on top of him, and our playfulness transformed into something more serious. He gave me a smile that threatened to make my heart stop as we met for yet another kiss that would take several seconds to complete before he showed me once more the joys of being a gay male.

* * *

We finally arrived back at the dock in Malibu just as the sun was setting, painting the sky with glorious hues of orange, pink and purple; I had to grab my sketch pad to draw the wondrous scene there on the beach as Brian sat patiently beside me, indulging me in my passion. I had learned more in one day about this multi-faceted man that I had learned all week, and I found myself wondering how I would ever say goodbye to him when he had to leave.

"Brian?" I whispered as I finished up my sketch and laid it down onto the sand.

"Yeah?"

I let out a shaky breath, needing to know the answer but afraid to at the same time. "When...When do you have to go back home?"

He was silent for a few seconds before he finally told me quietly, "In a couple of days. I'm kind of a control freak; I don't like to leave my ad agency for too long for fear my minions will fuck it up before I get back."

I smiled beside him. "Imagine that," I replied wryly, but inside my heart was breaking just a little at the thought of him leaving. Would I ever see him again? I turned to face him, noticing him staring back at me.

"Will I ever see you again?" I finally managed to ask what was uppermost in my heart. He reached for my hand to clasp it as the last, fading rays of the sun were disappearing below the horizon. The full moon would soon be out to help guide us back to the resort; normally I marveled at the sight as it rose over the water, creating an almost mystical scene, but tonight my mind was on something else.

He shrugged, his hand warm in mine. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "You have your world - and your hopes and dreams - and I have mine, Justin." He gazed out onto the water, which was lazily lapping at low tide. "Out here, this is make believe. Everything kind of stops and you can forget what reality awaits you back in the real world." He sighed. "I guess that's why I like to surf when I get a chance. When I'm out there on the water, all my stress and troubles fade away, at least for a short while." He looked back at me intently, noticing my face clouding over. "What is it?" he prompted softly.

"Was all this...was it make believe, too, Brian?" I asked him. "What we had today?"

To my joy - and to my relief - he shook his head after a few seconds and smiled at me. "No," he told me. "No, it wasn't." It was all he said as he repeated it more firmly - but it was enough to reassure me; I could see it in his eyes and hear it in the way he spoke to me. I nodded as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and we enjoyed the last, fleeting view of the sunrise in companionable silence.

* * *

An hour later we finally arrived back at the resort. Brian and I walked hand in hand around to the back patio, which was open for guests to enjoy an after-dinner drink and some dance music. We both reluctantly broke off our clasp as we noticed several people still outside, taking advantage of the full moon and the balmy temperature to congregate at the bar for a drink, recline on the chaise lounges, or dance on the tiled floor to the piped-in music from the state-of-the-art music speakers.

The lighting was softer in the evening, casting a more intimate ambiance, as Brian suddenly gripped my wrist and pulled me back into the shadows before we could be seen. I frowned. "What?" I asked.

"Dance with me," he whispered as I blushed, even though I knew in the relative darkness he couldn't see it. "Come here."

I smiled shyly at him as he wrapped his arms around me and we began to move together in response to the slow-tempo of some old-time ballad. I slid my arms around his neck as we allowed the music to overtake us, knowing this might be the last time we would have a chance to be alone before he had to leave.

I found that Brian wasn't much of a dancer - he just sort of swayed from side to side in my arms - but I didn't care. I just enjoyed the feeling of him holding me again. As the song ended, our lips met for another kiss, and I couldn't help wondering if it was going to be our goodbye kiss. I couldn't bear the thought of that, however, as I forced it out of my mind and concentrated, instead, on the feel of his lips on mine and his arms holding me close.

* * *

We managed to arrive at the door to my suite without my father detecting us, although I wondered what sort of questions he might pepper me with tomorrow morning at breakfast if he discovered I wasn't at my post today; I prayed he hadn't noticed. I didn't always eat dinner with the family, so it wouldn't be unusual for me not to make an appearance then. For now, though, as we stood in front of my door, I found myself not wanting to leave for fear I might not see him again.

"I'm...I'm glad your foot is all better," I told him in a whisper as we stood rather awkwardly in front of my suite, my back leaning against the door. I knew my father normally would have gone to bed well before now - it was going onwards toward 2 a.m. at the moment - but I didn't want to take any chances. I was badly tempted, too, to just let Brian come in and spend the night, but dare I ask? Then again, what did I have to lose? The thought of waking up in Brian's arms was worth the risk.

"Justin..."

"Brian..." We smiled at each other, the tension broken, as we both spoke at the same time.

"You first," he urged me as I collected my courage to speak what was on my mind.

"Brian, would you...would you like to come in?"

His lips turned upward into a smile of amusement. "Is that an invitation to share your bed, Mr. Taylor?"

I blushed but nodded shyly at him, holding my breath until I knew what his response would be. We both knew we would be doing a lot more than just sleeping in my bed; in fact, I doubted seriously if we would be getting much sleep at all, but I didn't mind. Sleep was vastly overrated in my opinion.

"I thought you'd never ask," he finally murmured to my relief as my eyes sparkled at the thought. He placed his hands to either side of my shoulders, and leaned in to kiss me breathless before, weak-kneed, I turned to open the door and we stepped inside.


	13. Only Love Can Break a Heart

_Brian and Justin's feelings deepen for each other. But when reality comes crashing in, what will happen to them? _

* * *

_Next Evening - Private Dining Room_

"Molly, pass me the rolls," Craig instructed his daughter. "And take off the ear buds; that's rude."

Molly rolled her eyes as she pulled the white set out of her ears and sighed, passing the basket of rolls over to her father.

"Where is Justin tonight?" he asked Jen. "This is two nights in a row that he's missed the family dinner. What's gotten into him?"

Molly giggled. "You mean _who_," she replied, totally unaware of the implications.

Craig turned to peer over at her daughter as he asked her sharply, "What are you talking about, Molly?" He noticed his daughter averting her eyes as if she realized she had said too much.

"Nothing, Dad," she mumbled as Jen eyed her curiously.

"No, Molly, say what you were going to say," Craig demanded quietly.

She shrugged as she fumbled with her ear buds nervously. "I just saw Mr. Kinney hanging around him a lot lately, that's all. He's teaching Justin how to surf."

"What?!" Jennifer gasped as Craig's eyes darkened. "That's dangerous!"

"Aw, Mom...A lot of people do it. He's pretty good at it, too; I was watching him earlier. He's got good balance." She didn't think it would be a good idea to tell them that she had seen her brother and Brian on the same surfboard practicing - with Brian's arms around her brother's waist. _One shock at a time_, she decided...

"When did your brother have time to practice surfing? He's supposed to be working." Craig pressed. "He'd better not be goofing off instead."

"Craig..."

"He's not," Molly assured her parents in his defense. "He waited until after his shift tonight."

"But you said Kinney's been hanging around him a lot; what do you mean by that?" Craig hadn't been aware that the two of them were even spending time together.

"Hey, don't get too worked up about it!" Molly told him, trying to defuse the situation. "I just mean I've seen them together off and on the past couple of days. After all, Brian's a surfer and Justin's a lifeguard. He did take care of him after he got stung, remember? It's natural that they would see each other during the day, then."

"That's different," Craig pointed out. "That has to do with his job." He peered across the table at Jen. "I'm not sure I like the sound of this, Jen. Kinney seems like a fairly responsible man, but he's a lot older than Justin." He pursed his lips tightly together. "Justin's vulnerable. I think there's only one reason why he would be hanging around our son."

Jennifer silently fretted about the same thing, but she also knew Justin had a sensible head on his shoulders and wasn't a baby anymore; after all, he would be heading off to college soon. "Craig, he's old enough to make his own decisions," she told him quietly. "And besides, isn't Brian leaving tomorrow morning?"

Craig nodded as Molly silently took all of their conversation in, wondering if she had made a mistake telling them about the two of them. She thought they had looked sweet together. And by the look on both her brother and Brian's faces, neither one of them appeared to be using the other. Her knowledge of being in love was pretty much nil, but she imagined if she did know what it looked like it, it would definitely resemble the expressions she had seen on their faces. They might not have realized it, but SHE had.

"Well, then, I wouldn't worry about it," Jen told him reasonably. "He'll be going back home and the problem will be solved."

Craig tersely nodded. "I suppose," he grumbled as he sipped some of his coffee. "He'd best be applying himself if he wants to find reliable transportation for school, not wasting his time surfing."

Jennifer glanced over at their daughter, who was totally absorbed in their conversation. Not surprising, since Molly was normally a sponge when it came to information; she was much like her brother that way. "Molly, you can be excused," she encouraged her not so subtly.

"I'm fine," Molly said with an exasperating smile.

Jennifer sighed as she turned to look at her husband. "I meant to talk to you about that, Craig."

"What do you mean? Justin needs to pull his load like everyone else."

"I know that. I mean, he has a partial scholarship already. He's worked hard to get it, too. Don't you think we should help him out a little with his car, then?"

Craig brushed his hand through his hair in agitation. "Jen, he'll never make his way in life if we just hand things to him. It's bad enough that he thinks he can make a living through his art. Let him find out the hard way that he's going to have to get a real job in order to survive - and that includes paying expenses along the way, including a car. He'll have enough saved by the end of the summer to find something decent enough for that."

Jennifer and Molly exchanged an exasperated look between them before Jennifer finally nodded in resignation, knowing her husband wouldn't back down. She knew he loved their son - and even grudgingly accepted his homosexuality - but she also knew he would never believe Justin could survive out in the 'real world' as an artist. Perhaps he was right. But she was willing to give him the chance to pursue his dream and find out.

* * *

_Justin's POV_

"You're making it hard to concentrate," I growled at my teacher as I shoved his hands back up to my waist where they belonged; one of them had been creeping lower and lower, no doubt heading toward the inside of my shorts until I stopped him.

Brian chuckled in my ear. "_Very _hard," he agreed in my ear as I shivered at the sexy tone of his voice.

"Brian..." I sighed. "I feel ridiculous. Why do I have to do this on the sand? I feel like I'm in a remedial surfing class or something."

He laughed. "Now, Gidget, everyone has to learn on the bunny slope first. Besides, it does have its perks. Now quit being such a drama queen, bend your legs a little more and hold your arms out like I told you."

I rolled my eyes but complied as Brian promptly tickled me in my sides and I bent over laughing. "Stop that!" I told him as he continued to torment me. Fortunately, we had found a relatively secluded spot for my surfing lessons, around a bend and partially hidden by a thick clump of pine trees, so I didn't have other people eyeing me curiously. But I still felt absurd practicing my form on a surfboard placed on top of the sand.

I turned around in Brian's arms as we shared a deep kiss, my surfing lessons temporarily forgotten as we wound our arms around each other. Our kisses were quickly becoming an addiction with me; I found that I couldn't get enough, which was going to make our parting tomorrow even more difficult.

"Stop that," he softly chided me as he held my head in his hands and he pulled back to look into my sorrow-filled face. "You know I can't stay here."

My eyes watered despite my attempt to avoid it. I didn't want him to think I was a baby, although I was beginning to warm up to the "Gidget" nickname by now - just in time to hear it for the last time possibly.

He pressed his head to my forehead as he whispered, "You have school in the fall and I have my agency, Justin." He lifted his head to peer into my eyes. "Come on - I think you're ready to do some real surfing now," he told me softly as I nodded and stepped off the surfboard so he could pick it up.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling a board by myself, you know," I told him as he tilted it on its side and began to tote it toward the water.

"You can always snag one from Honeycutt later if you want to try it on your own," he told me as we emerged from the grove of pine trees and headed toward some choppy waves away from the rocky crag outcrop several yards away. He looked over at me as we waded into the water with the board. "But for now, I want to make sure you know what you're doing first."

I huffed in insult as he told me to get onto the board; a few minutes later, as Brian's body was draped over mine and we paddled in tandem toward one of the waves, I began to rethink whether or not this wasn't such a bad idea after all. There were worse ways to learn how to surf, I decided, as Brian nuzzled my neck as we headed farther out and bit down playfully on my earlobe.

"Cut it out," I told him as the water lapped over our bodies. "You're distracting me."

He chuckled as we began to bob up and down with the ever-increasing waves before he told me to stand up. Helping me to rise, he had just enough time to place his body behind mine before we took off - and I promptly wiped us out as the board slipped out beneath me and we both went flying into the water.

Several minutes later, we both trudged back onto shore. Out of six trips, I had only managed to stay on the board two times, and that was only for a short while as we rode toward the beach. Of course, every time I fell off, so did Brian, but he never said anything to ridicule my skills.

We collapsed wearily onto the sand, the board lying beside us, lying flat on our backs as the sun crept lower into the horizon, signaling the day would soon be over - the last day I would spend with this incredible man. It had been a glorious few days, the best one being our 'non-date' the other day. I tried not to think about tomorrow as I turned my head to study his majestic profile, his eyes closed as he lay there unsuspecting of my study of him.

My face warmed as he opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at me; I reached out my hand to clasp his, trying to memorize everything about him.

"Come on," he told me as he rolled onto his side and pulled me up along with him. "Let's take this board back to the shop."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Brian had me pinned to my bed, raining kisses all over my face, shoulders, chest, arms, belly, and legs before he latched onto my cock with his lips. I fisted his hair as he spent an excruciating length of time bringing me to the brink and then pulling back just enough to prevent me from coming as his hand caressed me all over and he whispered my name in between his lips ghosting over my skin. It was almost as if he, too, were trying to put to memory every part of me, as my eyes glistened at the thought of saying goodbye.

I knew I was young, but I wasn't too young to realize that Brian might be the one. God help me, but I think I was falling in love with this man, and just as I was beginning to realize it, now he was leaving. As I climaxed into his waiting mouth, it was bittersweet.

* * *

An hour later after making love, he snored softly beside me as he cradled me in his arms, my head lying on his chest and one leg tangled with his. I had left the balcony doors open to let in the warm breeze generated by the high tide and could hear the waves crashing onto the beach below. Normally I love to hear the ocean at night and it helped me to sleep soundly. But not tonight. Tonight it was almost as if they were mocking me and reminding me of a painful reality that would come much too soon.

I closed my eyes instead and decided to listen to the sound of Brian's heart beating beneath me, reassuring me that he was still here. Finally, about two hours later, my weariness overcame me as I fell asleep with his arm curled protectively around my shoulder.

* * *

_The Next Morning..._

"Checking out, Mr. Kinney?" the young woman greeted Brian as he hefted his backpack onto his shoulder.

Brian nodded. "Yeah."

The front desk clerk, who had previously been informed by her boss that Brian was a 'gratis' guest in the special wing of the resort, smiled back at him. "I hope you enjoyed your stay and will come back and see us again."

He paused for a moment as he looked back toward the hallway heading into the private dining room, the sketch that Justin had drawn of him securely rolled up and stashed inside his backpack. Justin had presented it to him the other night as a gift when they had returned the other day from their trip up the Pacific Coast.

"Mr. Kinney? Everything okay?" the young woman inquired in concern, noticing his hesitation.

Brian turned back to her and nodded. "Yes," he told her softly. "Thank you; everything's fine."

* * *

As he started up his Harley a few minutes later, however, he knew that was a big lie. Everything _wasn't_ fine. Everything was fucked up. His heart was fucked up; thanks to a full-of-life blond that he had been forced to leave sleeping in his bed this morning. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he knew if he woke Justin up he might never leave. This wasn't his life; he couldn't remain here as a surfing beach bum forever. It was time to get back to the life he knew, the life he so expertly handled and knew like the back of his hand; the life that would continue to be a lucrative one but one that would be so empty now without Justin in it. But Justin had his own path as well; a path that would take him in a vastly different direction than his, and to prolong their goodbye would have only made it worse.

Walking to his Harley, then, he secured the backpack onto his back before reaching for his helmet and starting up his bike.


	14. Paint It Black

_The boys meet again by chance, but what will Brian do when he discovers that Justin is not alone?_

* * *

I was awakened by the rumble of a motorcycle. My eyes fluttered open as I squinted against the bright sunshine streaming in through the open balcony door, realizing by the sun's angle that it had to be after 8 a.m. now and I would soon have to rise to get ready for another day out on patrol. It was a job I at best tolerated and at worst detested, but it had been made a lot more pleasant lately due to the anticipation of seeing a certain someone, either out on the waves or after my shift was over.

Lying on my back, I rolled onto my side to face my lover, only to encounter a barren, empty space. As I heard the motorcycle's engine being revved, I suddenly realized with horrifying clarity why the bed was empty.

"No!" I cried out as I hurriedly rose from the bed and, grabbing the crumpled sheet, wrapped it around my waist as I rushed to the balcony's left side to peer out onto the parking lot, just in time to see Brian hopping onto his Harley.

I opened his mouth to call out to him, but I knew he would never hear me above the loud roar of the motor.

My eyes filled with tears as Brian reached for his helmet to put it on; just before he slid it over his head, something compelled him to look in my direction as his eyes found me huddled on the balcony.

My heart dropped as we gazed at each other in silent communication, saying so much without saying anything at all, before Brian nodded slightly and, pulling the helmet down over his head, released the kickstand as the motorcycle came to life. In less than thirty seconds, he had exited the parking lot and was gone, almost as if he had never existed at all.

* * *

"Brian..." I whispered, tears trickling down my cheek. "Don't go..." A sharp pain pierced my throat and I found it hard to swallow as I slumped against the balcony's railing and laid my head against the cold, smooth metal. I stayed there in that awkward position, listening to the fading sound of the bike, until I couldn't hear it any longer, before I slowly lifted my tear-stained face to stand up straight and turn to head back inside.

Sniffling and wiping my tears away, I shuffled as if on autopilot toward the bathroom to take a much-needed shower when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, propped up against the desk lamp. It was another envelope on the resort's stationery with my name on it, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized the masculine scrawl of Brian's handwriting.

Walking over to retrieve it, I sat down heavily on the end of the bed and slid the flap open, noticing this one was lumpy for some reason. Frowning as I momentarily forgot my sorrow, I pulled out a folded piece of paper as a key ring fell out onto the bed. It was a yellow surfboard almost identical to Brian's and had two keys dangling from it.

With shaky hands, I unfolded the piece of paper to read what it said:

_Justin - this was the best way. Parking space #17. Go find your dreams. ~Brian _

Forgetting my shower now, I hurriedly placed the paper down and grabbed a pair of jeans from my dresser drawer, not even bothering to put any shoes on as I snatched the keys from the bed and rushed out of my room and down to the parking lot. It took me a few minutes before I located Space #17, and my eyes bulged and my mouth fell open as I noticed what was parked there: a shiny, used, pale yellow, Beetle convertible.

Walking up to it, I didn't dare hope but I pushed the key into the lock and turned it, hearing the click of the mechanism as it unlocked the door. As I opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, my tears slid down my cheeks anew as I noticed a folded document on the passenger seat and opened it to find a California title with my name listed as the owner of the vehicle. "Brian..." I had no idea how he had managed this and even why, exactly - and how I would ever tell my father - but as I sat there I once more mourned what I had lost.

* * *

_Two Months Later - Kinnetik - California Office_

Cynthia frowned as she stuck her head into Brian's office, finding him idly sitting at his desk. He was turned toward the wall of windows behind him, quietly gazing out onto the impressive ocean view that his fourth-floor suite provided him.

It was one of the luxuries that her friend and boss could afford as a result of several smart business decisions he had made back in Pittsburgh, and she knew that was one of the reasons why he had chosen this particular building to house his new California office. Typically, however, Brian had his nose stuck in his laptop when she entered with seemingly a dozen things going on at once; in fact, it was a running joke that Brian could have saved a lot of money by leasing a space in some inner-city warehouse since he rarely took the time to actually enjoy the million-dollar view his office gave him.

Since he had returned from that beach resort a few months ago, however, she had found him to be lost in thought a lot, his mind not focused on the task on hand, even though he had told her that the campaign pitch had gone smoothly with the owner. That behavior was highly atypical for Brian, but despite her best efforts to gently prod him regarding the reason why, he had steadfastly refused to reveal any information, even getting downright surlier than normal with her when he felt she was probing a bit too deeply; either that, or throwing out some vague, sarcastic comment about it. So she had finally resigned herself to just quietly cleaning up whatever he didn't finish - or getting someone else reliable like their comptroller, Devon, to fill in whatever deals that Brian had left incomplete.

Secretly, however, she fretted that one day there would be a major slipup and Brian would lose one of his larger accounts and it would affect his bottom line dramatically. How do you tell the CEO of the company, however, that he was close to royally fucking up? It was his company to do with however he pleased; she only wished that whatever was bothering him would get resolved soon before all their jobs were put in jeopardy.

"Brian?" She called over to him softly.

He slowly swiveled around in his leather desk chair to peer over at her, his right eyebrow arched in silent question.

"Want me to order some lunch for you? It's after two."

"No," Brian replied in a dull voice, rubbing his eyes wearily. His entire body was stiff as a board, and it hadn't helped that he had been up until early morning, fucking, drinking, and smoking weed with yet another unknown trick. That had been pretty much his modus operandi since he had returned from the resort - and had walked out of Justin's life. Fuck himself into oblivion in an attempt to forget him. But, of course, it hadn't worked. Everyone he was with just reminded him of Justin - and what he no longer had.

He had to admit that he had been a little surprised that Justin hadn't contacted him after he had left; he would never admit it, but he had been disappointed that he hadn't tried. He realized that he only had himself to blame, though; he had made him swear that once they parted, he would go on with his own life and not look back, and apparently Justin had done just that. So why did it hurt so fucking much that he had followed his wishes?

"Brian?"

He looked up into the concerned eyes of his executive assistant as he rose to his feet, realizing she was still waiting for an answer.

"I'm...going to take a ride on the bike," he decided impulsively as she looked at him in surprise. He wasn't one to do that on a whim; he was normally much more methodical with his schedule. But he had found since moving here that a ride along the ocean provided him with solace and a way to ground himself. And since he had met Justin, it had also served to provoke some bittersweet memories in him. "I'll be back later," he told her as he brushed by her, not waiting for her reply.

Nonetheless, he heard her call out, "But what about the Henderson Drug campaign? There's a meeting in an hour with the Graphics Department to go over..."

"You know what I like," he told her brusquely as her mouth hung open in shock. It was the first time he had ever voiced that confidence aloud, even though she knew he had complete faith in her. "Leave the boards you prefer on my desk; I'll look at them when I get back." That was all she heard him say as he quickly walked to the door and left; a few seconds later she could hear the rumbling of his bike before it sped off.

She shook her head. "What in the world," she murmured before turning to head back to her own office.

* * *

_One Hour Later..._

Brian rode aimlessly, not really caring where he wound up. But the ocean did serve - at least temporarily - to quell the uneasiness and the other, not-so-decipherable feeling in the pit of his stomach. For once, he dispensed with the idea of using a helmet - he knew it was against the law, but he thought, _fuck it_. He needed to feel the wind against his face as he rode and smell the salt air assailing his nostrils. Mainly he just needed to _feel_.

Finally, he came around a bend and saw an impressive site: a rocky cliff with large, smooth boulders leading down to a flat, sandy, winding beach; an outcropping of rocks jutted out in an almost perpendicular line toward the ocean, which was presently at high tide, the whitecaps numerous and fierce in their intensity as they crashed over and over again on their way to the beach.

He noticed a sign nearby proclaiming that this area was a state park, but at the moment it was pretty much deserted, except for a few cars scattered around the parking lot. Not venturing a guess as to his good luck, he steered his bike down the dirt path leading to a small parking area and stopped it at the nearest spot leading toward a trail heading down to the water.

As he killed the bike's motor and hopped off the seat, he turned to head off toward the beach, only to stop dead in his tracks as he observed a vehicle parked several yards away, right next to a trail marker of some type. It wasn't the most luxurious of vehicles, or the most expensive. But it was instantly familiar to him with its curved, front end, big headlights and convertible top.

His mouth went dry as he walked slowly up to the empty vehicle, noticing a surfboard keychain hanging from the rearview mirror; it was very similar to the surfboard that he had decided to simply leave back at the resort when he had had to return to Kinnetik a few months ago. Brian stood next to the used vehicle, peeking inside to see if anything would give away the owner, and trying not to jump to conclusions. But it was difficult; he was missing Justin way too much, and his heart was too vulnerable to wild speculation.

He looked around the immediate area, as well as down on the beach, but saw no one that resembled him. Could he be mistaken, then? Was it just wishful thinking on his part? In this state alone, he imagined there could be hundreds of this same type of vehicle all over the place. He sighed as he brushed one hand through his hair. That must be it, Brian sadly concluded as his face fell. It was some cruel joke on God's part; a type of revenge for what he had done.

He decided since he was there anyway, however, that he would at least walk down to the water's edge and peer out at the waves he was itching to surf. Brian vowed that he would come back here with some surfing equipment and try the water out soon, but for now without any board or clothing he would have to be content with merely observing how the waves crashed perfectly against the immense boulders surrounding the park, and how they created the perfect tunnel of water to navigate on a surfboard. The constant, steady sound of the ocean always did soothe him, at least temporarily. That is, until the memories of a certain, blond, beautiful young man invaded his thoughts once more.

As he began to head over to the pathway leading down to the water, he turned his head to peer back at the rear of the car he had just seen, and his heart skipped a beat as he noticed something he hadn't paid attention to before: there on the back of the vehicle was a personalized license plate that told him all that he needed to know. It _had_ to be Justin's, then! Didn't it?

For the first time in a long time, Brian had a reason to smile: no one else could possibly have a banana yellow Volkswagen Beetle with a California license plate that read "Gidget?"...Could they? But if it _was_ his by some happy coincidence, then where _was_ he?

* * *

_One Hour Earlier - Justin's POV_

I steered my Beetle onto the familiar, dirt road leading down to the parking lot of the state park; I had discovered this rather underused gem a few weeks ago - when I had been feeling particularly melancholy and had just wanted to be alone with my thoughts and do some sketching - and I had quickly claimed it as a favorite place to go during breaks from my art classes, loving the seclusion that some of the more isolated areas afforded me. It was during the more introspective times that the last thing I wanted to do was be surrounded by swimmers or surfers, especially after spending all summer long playing lifeguard for my father's resort, and this windswept, beautifully rugged patch of land and ocean was a perfect place to calm my emotions and lift my spirits, at least temporarily.

I had been at school now for a couple of weeks, and was slowly getting accustomed to the routine. I had even made friends with a couple of fellow students in my still life and art history classes, and felt a sense of belonging amongst such a large group of like-minded peers who held the same passion for the arts that I did. The Oceanside Art Academy, located a few miles up the road, was everything I had imagined and hoped it would be; it was challenging, had a beautiful campus with spacious art studios and ample supplies, and the best art instructors anyone could wish for. If I had any chance of making a living as an artist, I was confident that the Academy would provide me with the tools - and the contacts - to do just that. And being in the Los Angeles area would also allow me to pursue career options in a number of fields you couldn't find just anywhere, including graphic arts and cartooning.

It had taken some persuasive intervention on my mother's part to get my father to change his mind and allow me, after all, to live on campus, rather than commute back and forth from the resort here to the academy. I knew with the extremely generous gift that Brian had bestowed on me that I would now have reliable transportation - which meant I _could_ have handled the commute, I suppose - but hauling my art supplies back and forth, plus dealing with California traffic, would have meant I would likely have been on the road at least for two hours each way, every day. So ultimately I had won over my hesitant mother and had enlisted her help in getting my father to agree to let me stay on campus. It was never the money that had been an issue anyway; due in large part to both his business expertise, plus Brian's new ad campaign, guests were booking at a much higher rate now, and the resort often had to turn people away on the weekends, a happy problem to have. No, I figured it was more an issue of trust. But I had never really done anything to violate my father's trust, and he knew that. So in the end he had grudgingly agreed to let me stay on campus with a roommate to help defray part of the expenses.

Ironic, then, how I wound up having to lie to my father when it came to the car. I recall when my father had first found out about it; knowing my father would never approve of what Brian had done, I had wound up telling him and my mother that it had belonged originally to one of Daphne's friends and how they had been looking to sell it for a lowball figure because they were moving out of state unexpectedly and didn't want to bother taking it with them. And I also had to come up with a pretty lame excuse that they were willing to actually let me give them a small down payment in exchange for taking the car now and Daphne paying them the balance on it for me so I could have the car right away, and how I would be paying Daphne back by the end of the summer with the proceeds from my lifeguard money. It had sounded totally ridiculous to me; but to my utter surprise, my father had actually accepted my convoluted story following my promise that I would, indeed, pay Daphne back everything that I owed her.

My mind filtered back to the present as I heard my companion softly scoff at what he was seeing.

"Doesn't look like much," my friend and roommate, Liam, commented as I drove slowly down the primitive dirt road heading toward the beach area, having to proceed at a snail's pace to avoid some of the ruts that were scattered throughout the surface.

"No," I admitted with a smile as I glanced over at him; both of us were in art classes together, and had quickly forged a bond with each other through that as well as winding up as roommates. I had described this park to Liam a few days ago, and despite my really preferring to come here alone most of the time, he had wheedled me into letting him come along for the ride to check it out. "But just wait; once you get past the entrance, the scenery is incredible."

"If you say so, Justin," he responded dryly, obviously unconvinced.

I smiled; it was pretty much nondescript until you rounded the next curve, and then...

"Holy shit," I heard Liam murmur as I nodded. "This is sweet!"

I grinned. _Spoken like a true artist_. Liam was strictly a sketch artist using charcoals. He was always telling me he would never paint because it got his nails and his clothes too dirty. I thought it was prudent for the sake of our rooming together, then, not to point out all the smudges he typically got on his shirts or on his face while he was using his so-called, 'cleaner' media of charcoal pencils to draw with. I silently resolved that one day I would push him toward graphite pencils, my sketch supply of choice, instead. Much cleaner to use, and more precise.

"Wow, I didn't know this place even existed," he commented as I pulled up near the trailhead to park. "You say there're caves around here, too?"

I nodded as I cocked my head over toward the left where the trail began. "Yeah, down near the beach. They jut out into the water. You can only go into them during low tide, unless you're wearing scuba gear."

Liam's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe we could try that sometime! I always wanted to try scuba diving!"

I laughed as I turned the car off and we got out. "Yeah...as soon as we both get rich and famous, we'll do that." He grinned back at me; we both pretty much lived from month-to-month on either our parents' money or, in my case, on part of my scholarship money. Sometimes we did well to have a dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese, but it wasn't too bad; not as long as we both had the chance to work on what we loved.

I opened up the trunk of the Beetle and retrieved a backpack with some beach towels, sun blocker, water, hat and sunglasses as Liam hefted out our art portfolios and other needed supplies. "Come on," I told him. "I'll show you one of my favorite spots for sketching."

* * *

Several minutes later, we were sitting companionably on a large, smooth boulder, flattened years ago by the carving of constant, rushing water from the ocean. It jutted out into the blueness, providing a perfect spot to view the scenery below. Even when there were people there, it was still quiet up here on my perch. Oftentimes, I would come here and just sit for hours when I didn't have school, watching the sun slowly sink lower and lower into the horizon or watching the activity far below and occasionally sketching something or someone that caught my eye. I would be so still that oftentimes wildlife would scamper unconcerned within feet of where I sat, whether it was a shorebird or something more much mundane such as a squirrel or chipmunk. I never grew tired, though, of watching this ever-changing vista.

I glanced over at a small group of surfers trying to master the waves that were a bit larger than the ones back at the resort. As usual, some of them were better than others. One in particular was extremely adept, managing to stay on his board most of the time as he rode it all the way in. He was tall, tanned, and muscular, and ironically enough, was balanced on top of a bright yellow surfboard. The only thing missing were the red flames - and a certain someone who was still uppermost in my mind and in my heart, even now. I let out a forlorn breath. I had wanted so badly to contact Brian after he left. But I knew he had been right about us. He had his world to go back to, and I had one I had yet to explore. He seemed to feel it was best that we just remain a memory - a wonderful memory. Normally I could almost accept that and agree with it; but other times - when it was in the dead of night or something I saw reminded me of him like that surfer did right now - I wondered if I had done the right thing by honoring his wishes. Had he completely forgotten about me by now? I know that I hadn't forgotten about _him._

"Hey," was the soft call from beside me, following by a slight, gentle nudge.

I blinked as I turned me gaze back onto my friend.

"Where did you go just now, roomie?" he asked me curiously.

I smiled wistfully at Liam as I hugged my hands around my ankles before turning to stare out at the water that continuously crashed against the rocks below. I contemplated how long that had been going on; it had to have been thousands of years. I wondered how many other people had sat right here where we were sitting, lost in their own thoughts, hopes, and dreams just like I was.

"You're thinking about him again...Aren't you?" was the quiet inquiry.

I closed my eyes as they threatened to betray my inner turmoil; I hadn't even noticed the tears prickling the back of them until he referred to Brian, but they were there. About a week ago, after the two of us had had more than enough beer and a couple of joints, I had confided in Liam about Brian; about the man who had changed me irrevocably and had found his way into the bottom of my soul - and directly into my heart. The man who had come into my life so unexpectedly and then had left the same way.

I didn't see any point in denying it, so I merely nodded before whispering, "Yeah. I guess I was."

"Why don't you call him, Justin? What would you have to lose?"

I shook my head firmly. "No," I told him, a painful lump in my throat. "He...He told me this was for the best, and I need to respect his wishes." I rubbed my hand through my hair, ruffling it. It had grown out a little more since the beginning of the summer, but was still more washed-out than normal from being in the unrelenting sun day after day.

"But..."

"Can it, Liam," I told him sternly as my eyes flashed and I turned to face him. "He's probably forgotten all about me by now anyway."

"Yeah...That's why he bought you that car."

I bristled slightly as I glanced skyward in aggravation and sighed heavily in consternation. "I should have never told you about that. That was all in the past. Now will you just drop it, please?" Of course, all my roommate had to do was leaf through any of my used sketchbooks and he would know what a total lie that was. Brian was always featured prominently in any of them.

He sighed but nodded as he held up his hands, peering at my sympathetically. "Okay..." He reached to snag his sketchbook from its place next to him as I took another deep breath and let it out, trying to rid myself of my melancholy mood. Deciding to follow his example, I reached for my own sketchpad nearby, wanting to be ready in case some dolphins appeared. They tended to frequent this beach around this time of day, and I was always entranced by their fluidity and gracefulness in the water.

I extended my upper body as far as I could as a gust of wind swept up from below, making one of my pencils begin to roll away from me; as I grabbed onto it, some dust particles swirled around us like a miniature eddy and I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my left eye. Reaching up, I probably did the worst possible thing I could do by rubbing it and rapidly blinking in an attempt to dislodge whatever was bothering my eye, but it was still there - as was the pain. I grimaced as Liam eyed me with a frown.

"What's the matter?"

"I think I got something in my eye. It's fucking killing me, too." I blinked a couple more times, still trying to hopefully wash away whatever it was, but it remained stubbornly there. "Can you take a look for me and see if you see anything?"

He nodded as I twisted my body around on the rocks to look at him as he did the same. Leaning over, he peered into my eyes for a look.


	15. Only Love Can Mend It Again

_Brian discovers where Justin is as jealousy rears its ugly head. Will they work things out? Or will Justin turn and walk away? _

* * *

_Twenty Minutes Earlier_

Brian's eyes burned from staring out into the waves; the sun reflecting off the water made it hard to see the faces of the surfers and bathers out in the water, but he had to keep looking. He was convinced the car he had seen up in the parking lot had to be Justin's. It was just too much of a coincidence not to be his.

He had looked in the men's restroom, out in the ocean itself, and all over the beach to no avail; no Justin. He knew from looking at a map of the park posted on a bulletin board by the parking lot, however, that this park encompassed several hundred miles of coastline, as well as contained numerous walking trails and even a few caves. Was it possible that Justin had wandered off to do some sketching and/or just to be alone? That would be like him, he felt. That _must_ be it. He glanced up at the parking lot to determine that the car was still, indeed, parked there, so he knew he had to be here somewhere. He was NOT ready to give up hope; not by a long shot.

He finally decided to walk back up toward the car and try the first walking trail closest to it; that seemed the most logical step. Retracing his steps, then, he ascended the winding, sloping trail as fast as he could toward an impressive patch of towering boulders that jutted out into the water.

Justin could be hidden among them anywhere; he was resolved, though, that he would not leave this place until he had found him.

* * *

"Will you quit squirming?" Liam groused as I tried fervently to not move and keep from blinking; it was difficult, though, when it felt like someone had a pin stuck in my eye. He grasped me by the shoulder with one hand as he leaned in so he was within inches of my face as he stared into my eyes.

"I will if you stop giggling like a fucking schoolgirl," I retorted. Liam seemed to think the entire episode was hysterical, apparently. He had already made some sort of remark that he felt like the hero in a cheesy Harlequin novel, about to swoop in to rescue the fair damsel in distress. I, however, was in too much discomfort at the moment to see any humor in it.

"Okay, okay," Liam responded, but he still couldn't quite wipe the grin off his face. "Now hold still and whatever you do, _don't blink!_" he quietly demanded as he leaned in so his face with within an inch or two of mine. I couldn't help thinking that if his girlfriend could only see him now...

I didn't have time to react - nor did Liam - as a muscular hand suddenly squeezed his upper arm in a vise-like grip and pulled him to his feet before I watched him promptly receive a punch in the face; he cried out as he fell to the ground, barely managing to scrabble around on the rocky surface to keep from plunging into the ocean waves several feet below. "What the hell?!" he roared at the other man who stood there looming over him like some tiger defending his cub.

* * *

My eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets and my heart lurched as I watched Brian hit Liam and knock him to the ground. Our eyes locked onto each other's like two heat-seeking missiles as I cried out, "Brian! What the fuck?" I was too concerned at the moment about my friend - and what Brian had done to him, however, to even acknowledge how he had wound up here at the same place I was; or what it meant. "Why did you do that?"

Forgetting my discomfort momentarily, I scooted over to Liam and placed my hands on either side of his face to make him look at me. "Are you okay?" I asked in concern.

Liam glared up at Brian as he rubbed his face and told me sarcastically, "Yeah. Just peachy. You know this asshole?"

I glanced up at Brian, noticing his nostrils flaring like some barely-controlled bull as he stared at the two of us, his fists curled into balls by his side. His eyes were dark and a vein was bulging out on the side of his neck, but he still hadn't spoken a work to either me OR Liam. It was obvious, though, that he was highly agitated about something. Why was he so angry?

"Yeah, I know him," I told Liam as I studied the red-looking welt quickly appearing on his left cheek; it looked like he would have a doozy of a bruise by tomorrow. "He normally has better manners than this, though. Can you stand up? You really need some ice on that."

"Spoken like a true lifeguard," Brian retorted as I glared up at him.

"Shut up, Brian!" I growled as I returned my attention back to my friend.

"Justin, what about your..."

"Don't worry about it," I told Liam tersely as I helped him to stand; I noticed that Liam made a marked attempt to stay as far away from Brian as possible; I couldn't say that I blamed him. I shook my head at Brian in disgust as I told Liam, "There's some ice left in the picnic basket out at the car, I think. Why don't you go use some of that before it swells up anymore?"

He nodded but continued to stare warily over at his attacker. "I'm not sure you should be left alone with him," he told me.

"That makes two of us," I told him with a dry snort as Brian continued to silently stare at us. "But it'll be okay," I assured him. "I can handle him." _I think._ "Go ahead; I'll catch up with you." I handed him the keys to the car as he took one more look at Brian before turning to go. I noticed him glancing back over at us a couple of times, apparently to make sure Brian wasn't planning on pushing ME off the rock, before, somewhat reassured, he finally turned and disappeared between a couple of other large boulders. It was only then that I decided to let our intruder have it.

"Brian, answer me! Why did you just DO that? What in the world got into you? You had no right! And what the fuck are you are doing here, anyway?"

I noticed the hard set of Brian's jaw as he told me, "I see you didn't waste any time forgetting me, did you?"

My mouth dropped open in total confusion. "What the hell are you TALKING about? And by the way, if I recall correctly, you're the one who ran out on ME." I swallowed hard, finding it amazing that even now I could feel a hard lump in my throat merely over seeing Brian again - and how he had abruptly walked out of my world and now back into it.

Brian crossed his arms over his chest defiantly as he responded, "I did NOT 'run out on you.' I _told_ you; I had to go back to work. I had no choice." He walked closer to me as his face changed into some type of expression I couldn't quite decipher and he gently grasped my upper arm, almost as if he were afraid I would rush off; it felt like his touch was burning clear through to my skin - and also my wounded heart. His voice was softer as he called out my name, almost like a whisper on a breeze. "Justin..."

"Don't 'Justin' me!" I replied as I pulled my arm away, still angry. "I want to know why you did what you just did!"

Brian turned his gaze away from me; if I didn't know better, I would have sworn that he was uncomfortable as he finally replied, "I...I saw the two of you kissing and..."

"What?!" I cried in disbelief. "You most certainly did NOT!"

Brian bestowed a thinly veiled expression on me as he replied, "Justin, don't try to deny it. I saw what I saw."

My mouth hung open. "Well, I don't know what you saw, but you did not see THAT! Do you really think I could have forgotten you so easily?" I bit my lip, realizing I had revealed a little too much, before I suddenly gasped as the pain in my eye flared up; whatever was stuck in it was still obviously there. "Fuck!" I placed my fingers against the side of my head, afraid to rub it again for fear I would make it worse.

"What is it?" Brian asked immediately as he rushed over to me and grasped my upper arms in concern, his previous jealously all but forgotten. "Justin?"

"My eye," I breathed out painfully. "There's...There's something in my left eye."

Brian gripped my chin with his right hand with surprising tenderness as he lifted my head to gaze intently at me. "Let me see," he demanded softly. "Hold still."

I did as he asked, my heart fluttering in my chest, as Brian stared intently into my eyes. _God, I had missed him so much! _ I swallowed, my eyes teary from the pain, as he leaned in to gently pull my eyelash up so he could see my eyeball better. "Looks like you have a sand particle in your eye," he reported. "There's a little black speck in the corner."

"A sand particle? Well, it hurts like a motherfucker," I told him.

"They can," he replied. He seemed to take a couple seconds to think about how to resolve my problem before he instructed me, "Stay there." I watched, my eye burning and gritty now, as he walked over and picked up one of the unopened water bottles Liam and I had brought with us. Twisting the cap off, he walked back over to me. "Hold your hands out. You're going to have to try and wash it out somehow. You definitely don't want to rub it."

"Yeah, I already found that out," I told him dryly. I bit my lower lip, all my previous feelings flooding back to me. I wasn't sure I could handle any more drama with this particular person and expose my vulnerable heart to him once more. "Brian..."

"Just do it, okay?" he pleaded with me with barely-controlled patience. He paused for a second before he added more softly, "Let me take care of YOU for a change. Give it a try."

I finally nodded as I cupped my hands and he poured some of the water into them. I leaned my head down and splashed the water as much into my eye as I could.

"Now blink rapidly several times," he told me.

I did as he instructed until, at last, I couldn't feel the object there anymore. I sighed in blessed relief as Brian softly ordered me, "Close your eye for a second. Is it gone?"

I nodded, my pulse quickening as he once again cradled my chin in his hand and gently wiped my eye with some soft material, probably part of his shirt.

Before I could open my eyes back up, however, my heart threatened to burst out of my chest as I felt his familiar, soft lips on mine, tentative and whisper-light, and his hands sliding around my waist to pull me closer.

"Justin..." he whispered against my mouth as I melted into his embrace as if we had never parted. I opened my mouth as his tongue slid in to deepen the kiss and my own arms wound around his back.

I lost myself in that kiss, in the feelings that coursed through me, until I realized we still had a lot of unfinished business remaining and I pulled my hands back around to place them against his chest and give him a push to separate us. Brian, however, would not let go of me completely as he kept a hold on the small of my back. "Wait just a minute, you asshole!" I growled. "You...you can't just kiss me and expect to erase what you did to Liam - or to me!"

Brian had the decency to look ashamed as he replied softly, "I...I think I realize now what was going on before with you two." He paused. "At least I _hope_ so. Am I right?"

I huffed in irritation, wanting desperately to remain furious with him, but finding it extremely hard as he stared at me with those luminous, green-and-gold flecked eyes and gazed at me the way that he was presently doing, as if I were the only person that existed. "Liam is straight as they come," I told him, my lips pressed tightly together. "He has a girlfriend, Brian. He's my roommate at college, and he was trying to help me with my eye. That's all; end of story, period. So you owe him a big apology." I shook my head. "I don't know why I'm even bothering to _explain _this to you! After all, you're not a part of my life anymore."

"Don't say that, Justin."

I snorted in ridicule. "Why not? You left me in bed back at the resort and ran back off to your _real_ life." I hurriedly wiped the beginning of some tears away from my eyes. "So why don't you go back there now and leave me the fuck alone?"

I tried to brush past Brian, but he reached out to grip my arm to prevent me from leaving. "Let GO of me!" I roared in annoyance.

Brian reached to grasp my other arm as he wound his arms behind my back and plastered his chest against mine.

"Stop it! You can't just manhandle me and expect me to forget what you did!" I watched as Brian's head dipped lower toward mine as my eyes grew large in realization, and my determination and righteous indignation began to quickly falter. "You...you can't just...I...I'm not going to let you..."

"Justin..." he whispered in a heartfelt, pain-filled voice. "Justin, fuck, I've missed you..."

"Brian," I breathed out his name then, not sure if it was an objection or a prayer as his lips came closer and closer toward mine like an avoidable train wreck about to happen. I felt myself growing dizzy - and hard as a rock - as he angled his head, his intention crystal clear as his breath washed over my skin and I inhaled his masculine, intriguing scent. It instantly brought back waves of memories; good memories of him and me back on that beach, making love and falling IN love. I tried one, last, feeble attempt to prevent what I knew was going to happen anyway as I almost begged now. "No...You can't just walk back into my life and..."

The rest of my statement was promptly drowned out as his lips began to ravage mine again, and I lost all conscious, rational thought. My own hands betrayed me as they wound around his neck to pull him closer still, our bodies touching from head to toe. We stood there on that wind-driven rock, kissing like we were two men who had been stranded for weeks in the desert and were just now being given water to drink to quench our thirsts.

Finally, we were forced to break off our kiss just to regain some air, but Brian continued to nuzzle the size of my neck with his lips and make me lose all sense of concentration. I still had so many unanswered questions, though, that I had to have answers to before I allowed my heart to be stolen away again. Perhaps it had never been returned to me all along, though.

"Brian...Brian, you can't..."

"Shhh," he softly scolded me as pulled back and cradled my head in his heads to force me to stare into his eyes. He knew I could never resist the look that he was giving me. Where did my righteous indignation go? "Are you please going to try and let me explain?" he asked me. "Hmm?"

I swallowed hard, my lips feeling thoroughly bruised and decimated, as I dumbly nodded; it was the only reaction I could manage at the moment, since intelligent speech seemed to have left me. I was quickly realizing that I had been a fool to think I could have ever forgotten about him.

"But Liam..."

"Fuck Liam," he told me before he added wryly, "Well, you know what I mean." I managed a slight smile of amusement over that statement before he sighed. "I'll apologize to your little doctor-in-training later. Come on; let's find somewhere more private to talk - and a little less life-threatening."

"Wait!" I told him as he grabbed my wrist with the intention of taking me somewhere else.

He huffed in impatience. "What now?"

I flipped open my cellphone and quickly dialed Liam's number; after a couple of rings, I heard him pick it up.

"You okay?" he asked me on the other end; I could hear a note of concern in his voice.

I glanced over at Brian, who still had a hold on my wrist as I told him, "Yeah, I'm fine. Brian managed to help me get that sand particle out of my eye."

"Well, I'm glad he's good for something." There was a slight pause as he asked, "He's that guy you were telling me about before?"

I turned my back away from Brian to try and get some privacy before I told him simply, "Yeah."

I heard my friend sigh on the other end. "Be careful, Justin. I know you still care about him, but..."

"I know, I know," I interrupted him. I let out a deep breath between my lips as I whispered, "I have to hear him out, though, Liam. I hope you understand."

"Yeah, I do, Justin. I know you still care about him; it was written all over your face. Just watch it. Sure you don't want me to come back and referee?"

I chuckled slightly. "Might be a good idea, but no. Actually, I was just going to tell you to go ahead and take my car back to the dorm. I'm sure he will give me a ride."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd _love_ that," Liam replied as I promptly blushed. "You sure that's what you want to do?"

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me, before I looked back over at Brian, who hadn't moved from his spot. He was staring intently at me as if he were afraid I would jump off, just to get away from him. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Call me later, then," Liam requested. "I want to make sure you're in one piece."

"Okay. And thanks."

"See you."

I slowly closed my phone as Brian reached his hand out toward me; I actually thought I could see some vulnerability on his face as if he didn't know what I would do. Was there really any doubt, though? I hesitated for just a moment before I finally twined his fingers with mine, wondering if I knew what I was doing. But my heart wouldn't allow me to just leave. I had to hear him out.


	16. Cherish is the Word

_The two boys finally have their talk. Will Brian actually tell Justin how much he means to him? Or will he run away again? _

* * *

We wound up just leisurely walking along the shoreline of the beach as Brian steered me toward the end that was deserted; no doubt by purposeful intent. Actually, I preferred it. If we were really going to truly talk, I wanted to be alone with him when we did. I felt it was only when it was just the two of us that he really allowed his innermost feelings and true nature to surface, and the last thing I wanted was an audience around us.

I had slung the backpack of supplies over one shoulder earlier; it was starting to feel quite heavy as I stopped to pull it off and drop it down onto the hard, wet sand. I glanced over at Brian, Liam having taken our art supplies back to the car earlier. I decided, good or bad, it was now or never. "Brian?" I called over softly to him as he turned to look at me; we had stopped near one of the towering rocks that thankfully hid us from the rest of the beachgoers. "You said before that you wanted to talk. But you haven't said a word to me."

Brian let out a deep sigh as he nodded, his eyes boring into mine and still making my heart do somersaults. "Let's sit down," he told me. I let go of his hand to reach inside the backpack to pull out the two, oversized beach towels and spread them out onto the ground as the two of us sat down next to each other, Brian's long legs spread out in front of him as he braced himself on his elbows, and mine bent at the knee as I wrapped my arms firmly around them and stared out at the now gently lapping water.

When Brian didn't speak up, I turned to look at him. I had so many questions that I didn't know where to start. "How did you even know I was here?" I began.

"I didn't," he told me to my surprise. "I was out taking a ride on my bike along the Pacific Coast Highway and just happened to drive by this park. I thought it looked interesting, so I pulled into the parking lot - not too far away from a car that looked vaguely familiar." One side of his mouth quirked up as he added, "At first, I thought it was merely a coincidence that it looked like your car...but your license plate kind of gave it away. Gidget?" I blushed, in spite of the seriousness of our situation, as he reminded me, "I thought you despised that name when I called you that."

I pondered how to respond to that question, trying hard not to give too much of myself away. After all, I was still angry and upset with him. "Well...I guess I got used to it," I finally murmured. _And YOU...until you ran off. _I took a deep breath as I turned to look at him, finding him staring intently at me in expectation. Apparently I was going to have to lead this conversation - wherever it wound up. "Brian, first of all, about the car..." He lifted one eyebrow. I pressed my lips together and swallowed. "I had a hell of a time coming up with a good explanation as to where it came from," I admitted. "But that was a very generous thing for you to do. If you'll let me know how much it cost, I WILL find a way somehow to pay you back for it." No matter whether or not he was more financially stable than me, I still didn't like the idea of being beholden to him.

"How?" he asked me in amusement. "The last time I saw you, you weren't exactly employed in a high-income position. Unless you've found another way to supplement your lifesaving duties with some of your _other_ many talents."

I huffed out an irritated breath, my face warming over the insinuation. "And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?" I shook my head. _One step forward, two steps back..._ "I know it would take me a long time to do it," I admitted, "being in school and all. But I could get a part-time job, and pay you back a little at a time. And I will," I told him resolutely. "Just tell me how much it was, and I'll..."

"I don't want your money, Justin!" Brian replied as he shook his head. "I didn't buy you the damn car expecting to be paid back! I don't want - or need- your money!"

My eyes glistened as I asked him, "Well, what DID you expect then, Brian? You...you sneak out of our bed before I even have a chance to wake up so you can leave me without so much as a goodbye and go back to 'your world,' as you so quaintly put it, and then I find this car out in the parking lot! Was that your way of saying thank you to ME?" I pressed, feeling the painful knot in my throat.

"Fuck! Why do I feel like some well-paid whore all of a sudden?" I angrily wiped a tear from my cheek, more upset with the fact that I was displaying this weakness if front of him than what his gift might have signified. Besides, truthfully I didn't really believe that; it was more the fact that Brian had left so abruptly that made me lash out at him.

Brian's face turned red. My eyes widened as I observed his facial features contort into something almost ugly as he reached over to grab my wrist and roughly pull me against his chest; my adrenalin shot through my entire body as he gripped my shoulders like a man drowning, and I wound up straddling his thighs, my legs bent to either side of his body as I placed my hands on his shoulder blades to brace myself. I had never seen Brian so angry before. "Don't you even SAY that! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He had this look of total disbelief on his face. "Don't you realize how I felt about you? How I STILL feel about you?"

"No," I told him honestly. "I don't. That's the problem. Because if you did care about me, how could you have just left like you did?" I shook my head as he opened his mouth to reply. "Yes, I know what you said before. You couldn't stay there; you had to go back to 'your world.' I realized that. You couldn't make a living by surfing all day. But it was the way that you left me, Brian! You didn't leave money in an envelope on the night table...but you might as well. As always, though, you decided to do it up big and leave me a car, instead."

I gasped as his fingers bit into my flesh and his normally placid eyes darkened with anger. I wasn't afraid of Brian - I had seen the tender side of him too much to know that he wasn't really capable of violence - at least not with me - but I WAS surprised by the intensity of the righteous fury reflected currently in his eyes.

"Now you listen to ME, Justin Taylor! Yes! I did have to leave! And yes, maybe I didn't show the proper amount of finesse when I left to suit _you_! But do you think it was easy for me, having to leave? Well, it wasn't! I had to force myself out of your bed that day! And when you looked over at me from your balcony, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do when I got on that bike and sped off! So don't go trying to make it out that it didn't affect me, too!"

I could tell by Brian's face that it HAD bothered him. _But_... "Well, then, why did you tell me not to contact you, Brian? And why didn't you contact _me_? You obviously knew where I was. It wouldn't have been difficult to do. What stopped you? Huh? I wasn't asking for some kind of commitment from you. I just wanted to spend more time with you. It's not like you were moving to another country or something - or even another state."

Brian sighed as he loosened his grip on my shoulders but didn't let go altogether; as I sat there, the two of us facing each other, all those memories from before came rushing into my mind. I still cared about this man, no matter what had happened; of that there was no question. I couldn't deny my feelings for him. Perhaps that was what made this harder.

"Justin, you only knew me for a few short days back at the resort. I had lived a lifetime before you met me. And yeah, we got to know each other better while I was there. But you can't know everything you need to know about me in a few short days. There's a lot about me that you don't have a clue about."

Despite my anger, I couldn't help responding to the vulnerability in his voice as I slid my hands up to cup his face. "So tell me," I whispered. "Make me understand."

He let out a deep breath between his lips as he replied truthfully, "That would pretty much take a lifetime, Justin."

"You have to start somewhere."

I could see emotions conflicting on his face before he finally seemed to make a decision and nod. "I've...I've never really known how to have a relationship with anyone. My family life was totally fucked up to the point where I spent most of my time at my best friend's house, at least when I could sneak out without my old man beating the shit out of me first."

My eyes teared up at the thought as I opened my mouth to say something, but Brian silenced me with a shake of his head. I bit my lip as he continued.

"My mother chose to ignore what was going on by drinking herself into oblivion in between attending every mass at the local Catholic Church; I'm sure they all thought she was a model of morality, because she always _was_ good at holding her liquor in and could spout virtually every verse out of the Bible while doing it." He snorted. "But she was more frigid to me than a fucking igloo, and just as supportive when my old man was hitting me. She always said I had done something to cause it." He shook his head sadly; I could tell he was reliving some of it, even now. "Truth was, I was just being a rambunctious kid. But it didn't matter. I don't think either one of them ever wanted children in the first place. But when you're Catholic, it's expected of you, so he went along with it mainly to _fulfill his manly duties_."

I swallowed hard, imagining what that must have been like. While my father had never necessarily been overly affectionate, at least my mother had been the nurturing kind and my dad had never laid a hand on me. I slowly stroked Brian's cheek with my fingers and stared into his pain-filled eyes, somehow trying to convey my support as he spoke up again.

"I wound up spending more time at my best friend's house than my own; his mother was more of a mother to me than my own mother would _ever _be."

I watched his face transform then into something tender and his voice soften as he told me, "Then a few years ago, one of my good friends from college asked me to father a child for her and her partner. In a cup," he added as if I needed the reassurance. I HAD been wondering about that. "When Gus was born, I swore that I would never, ever be a real father to him, or even bother to get to know him. I was planning on definitely being a means to an end and nothing else." He smiled then as he explained, "Then I took one look at him and hell, I was a goner. He was the most beautiful kid, and looked so much like me. When I held him, it was the most amazing feeling." He paused for a moment, as if he were reliving it again.

"He's the funniest kid. Always says exactly what he means, and he can talk me into anything. Until he came along, I never thought I would feel love like that for anyone." Brian's eyes turned to gaze out onto the water as if he were steadying himself before he turned his glance back to me and admitted, "I was afraid I would turn out to be a horrible father just like my old man did. But Gus proved me wrong."

I watched, entranced, at the change in his demeanor as he spoke like a proud father about his son. I had no doubt he, did, indeed love him. It was obvious. "You...You see him often?" I asked softly as he shook his head as my hands slid down come to rest on either side of his neck.

"No," he whispered. "I talk to him on the phone all the time - and fly up to see him whenever I can get away - but his moms moved to Canada about a year ago, just before I moved out here. So it's hard for me to see him as much as I like."

"But it doesn't affect how much you love him," I replied as he nodded.

"No," he told me simply. "Now I couldn't imagine life without him in it." He brought his hands up to my face to cradle it in his hands. "And...Despite how we said goodbye - and how short a time I've known you - the same goes for _you_."

My heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" I whispered, my hands stilled around his neck as he stroked my face with his fingers. _And those eyes...those incredible, depthless eyes..._

"Justin, like I said. I don't really know HOW to do 'relationships.' I guess the way things were heading with us; well, it wasn't anything I knew how to deal with. I've...I've never had a relationship with another man; I mean, not to where I wanted to see them more than once. I never even thought I would want that. Until I met _you_."

I scrunched up my face in confusion. "But...but you said it was best that..."

"I _know_ what I said," he interrupted me gently. "I said we had our own lives to live and we were heading down two different paths. That was bullshit," he said as my eyes widened in surprise. "The truth is...I was, okay, I was fucking _scared_ of where it might lead. I didn't know how to handle it; handle _you_. You saw how I acted around you! I was damned irritating."

I had to smile at that. "Yes, you were," I readily agreed as he grinned slightly back at me. "I recall it quite vividly."

He nodded. "Yeah, well I remember a few _other_ things vividly." I blushed in recollection, remembering the day we had made love on the beach that first time. Vivid didn't begin to cover it.

His face grew solemn as he told me, "I did have to get back to my world, back to reality. But I found that once I was there, I couldn't forget you. My assistant, Cynthia - she's been with me for years, and I know she knew that something was bothering me and that I was fucking up accounts left and right. But she never said anything. She knew I probably wouldn't discuss it, and she was right. I wouldn't have. But that still didn't mean that I didn't think about you every day since I left and wonder how you were." He quirked one side of his mouth up as he asked, "So how are you?"

I had to laugh softly at his question before I told him honestly, "I never stopped thinking about you, either. I wanted to call you so many times, Brian. But I promised you I wouldn't." I let out a shaky breath, my eyes watering. "I've been at school now for a couple of weeks, and it's great there. It's exactly what I expected - and more, even. But I've missed you so much." I smiled wistfully. "Every time I get into that damn car, I think of you." I paused for a moment, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed of my earlier insinuation. "You don't know what it means to have a way to..."

He placed his fingers over my lips and shook his head. "Forget it. I wanted to do it, and it was not that big a deal." My eyebrow arched in contradiction as he added, "I guess it might not have been easy explaining my gift to your father, though."

I snorted. "No, it wasn't. There was no way I could come right out and tell him that YOU had given it to me. He would have never let me accept it if he knew the truth."

"So what did you tell him?"

"I made up a story about it belonging to someone else, and that my friend Daphne had given them the money until I could pay her back. I never thought my Dad would buy that story, but thankfully he did."

Brian nodded as his fingers slowly explored my skin, making my pulse quicken. I supposed it would always be this way when I was around him.

"So where does this leave us, Brian?" I asked him at last. I had to know. I wasn't quite ready to admit that I had started falling in love with him, but I WAS starting to understand more about why he had left so abruptly that day. "Are you just going back to your office and never seeing me again?" _Please, no..._

Brian sighed heavily. "Have you not been listening to anything that I just said, Gidget?" I rolled my eyes at the impertinent term as he explained, "If you think I'm letting you out of my sight again, Mr. Taylor, you are sadly mistaken. I don't care HOW different our worlds are; something tells me that you and I will find a way to meld them together and MAKE them work. I don't see another alternative...Do you?"

I smirked. "Well, you could be a model for my still-life class so we could see MORE of each other." He snorted at the double entendre. "But other than that, it will be difficult to explain why you are constantly following me around at school." My face sobered as I told him honestly, "Brian, I've worked too hard to get into the Art Academy. It's been all I've dreamed of - well, _almost_ all," I admitted as he smiled back at me in understanding. Ever since HE entered my life, my dreams had taken a decidedly more erotic turn. "I can't give that up, even to be with you." My eyes filled with trepidation; would that cause Brian to forget what he had just promised?

To my relief, he told me, "I would never ask that of you. That would be like you asking me to give up my advertising business, and I know you wouldn't do that." I shook my head to confirm it as he explained, "I mean that you will just have to spend more time with me at my loft...And at Kinnetik."

"Kinnetik?"

He nodded. "My business. It has this kick-ass view on the 4th floor of the ocean, Justin. And extra space that we lease but haven't found a use for yet. But something tells me now that maybe I have. It has wonderful lighting there from all the windows. Just perfect for a studio - for you."

My eyes lit up. I knew I could use the studio space at the Academy any time, but to be able to have my own place to work with an ocean view that I loved, plus possibly spend more time with Brian? It was a win-win situation to me.

"What do you say?" he pressed as he leaned in a little closer. "Shall we seal the deal and then work out the details later?"

I could see the hopefulness - plus just a little bit of uncertainty - on his face as a wide smile broke out on my own. I nodded as our lips came together for a kiss - one that went on and on and on and on...

He pushed me down gently upon the towel so I was lying on my back as he continued to kiss me, first on the lips and then all over my face, his hands reaching for my tee shirt to pull the hem up and slide them underneath. I could feel our mutual desire for each other burning anew between us as his hands glided up to rub against my nipples, and I couldn't help the gasp of pleasure that escaped my lips as his mouth nibbled the cord of my neck. "Brian..." I whispered as I trembled under his touch.

He lifted his head to gaze intently into my eyes, his body lying over mine. I felt suddenly shy as he waited silently for me to continue. "Brian...I want you," I whispered hoarsely. It had been way too long.

He nodded. "Me, too. _Now_," he commanded in a sexy, demanding tone of voice that made me want him even more. He rose to kneel as he quickly pulled off his shirt, his intention crystal clear as I reached to grab his waistband on his pants to stop him from going further. "No..."

He frowned as I explained shyly, "Not here. Too open." I knew that we were in a relatively secluded area, but I also knew it would be quite easy for anyone to find us here if they, too, were seeking to be alone. But I _also_ knew that I was unwilling to wait much longer to be with him again. There had to be a solution.

"Justin..." I could hear the barely-controlled exasperation and lust in his voice, which made my face flush in anticipation. Brian was like some insatiable hunger in me; I suspected it would always be that way. He had been my first, and I somehow knew I would never be able to surpass the way that he makes me feel with anyone else. "Help me," I asked as he tugged on my wrist to pull me up.

Picking up the beach towel, I looked around as an inspiration came to me. "Over there," I told him as I pointed toward one of the caves nearby. It still wasn't quite low tide, but low enough that we could easily wade barefoot into the cave and hopefully find a dry spot further inside.

He nodded in understanding as we both took off our shoes and walked, hand-in-hand, toward the entrance to the cave.

We knew we couldn't walk too far into the cavernous structure or it would be too dark, but fortunately it was exactly as I had hoped: once we walked deeper into the cave, the ground became somewhat more elevated and drier. Finally, we found a smooth, sandy spot in a small sort of alcove, nice and dry.

As if he read my mind, he let go of my hand as we both proceeded to disrobe, the sun outside beginning to bathe the sky in shades of pink, gold, and purple as the sun slowly began its ascent toward the horizon.

Feeling inexplicably shy as Brian openly admired my body, I unfurled both beach towels and laid them down onto the sand before turning to notice Brian's eyes silently following my every move.

"You're so damn beautiful," he suddenly whispered with heartfelt emotion. I could feel my face warming over his unexpected compliment as he held his hand out to me. As I took it, he pulled us together for another kiss while he lowered me to the ground. We kissed passionately for several seconds, seemingly trying to make up for the time we had lost, before, bracing himself on his elbows, he pulled back to gaze down upon my face, his own openly displaying his emotions. Smiling at me tenderly, I couldn't help returning the gesture as the palm of my left hand slid across the taut smoothness of his tanned chest, rubbing gently over one dusky-colored nub as I heard his sharp intake of breath. It still amazed me that I held this type of power over someone such as him as I trailed the tips of my fingers lower, then toward his belly and the patch of dark-colored pubes above his cock, lying hard and heavy against my body. I could feel the wetness there, signifying his desire for me that precisely matched my own, and I knew I couldn't wait. A dismaying thought occurred to me then, however. If Brian hadn't been expecting to run into me...

"Brian?" I whispered as he peered into my eyes. He lifted his eyebrows in question. "Do you have...?"

He seemed to instantly know what I needed as he nodded. "You bet I do," he assured me as my heart pounded. I watched him reach over to pull his pants closer and locate the condoms and small container of lube in his pocket. Dropping the pants back down and placing the condom next to me, he flipped the top open to the lube and squirted some onto his fingers. As if with an unspoken command, I placed my legs around his waist and linked them firmly together as he gave me a quick peck of reassurance on the lips before I felt the coldness of the gel around my hole. I hissed as one finger pressed inside, and then another, opening me up for what I was so desperately needing to feel. "Brian," I breathed out impatiently as he seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to prepare me. Right then, I just needed HIM; I didn't care if it burned more than normal. "I need you inside me, Brian," I told him, not sorry if it sounded slightly like I was begging. Actually, I was.

He nodded. "Put it on me," he told me as I reached to grab the flat packet, tearing it open with trembling fingers. I licked my lips in concentration as I pulled out the latex and slid it down his shaft, hearing his breath hitch as my fingers encountered the hard, hot, smooth flesh. Accomplishing my goal a few seconds later, I gripped his arms as he lined himself up and pressed in slightly.

I groaned as I felt the first, preliminary contact with his cock in my body. It had been too long; way too long, but it felt just as wondrous as it had the first time, even more so. His eyes locked on mine, he grasped my thighs as he pushed down against me and I met him halfway, silently coaxing his cock in even further. I felt the initial discomfort, the sting that I had felt the first time and every time after that, but I didn't care, because I knew what lay beyond that: almost indescribable, unstoppable, pure pleasure.

"More," I demanded, barely able to get the word out; I was too caught up in my emotions to almost be able to even speak. But he must have heard me as I felt him thrusting in deeper as my body arched up to meet his. I grunted in disappointment as I felt his slick cock withdraw slightly, only for Brian to thrust back in harder and longer with one, smooth stroke, hitting my sweet spot as I gasped at the sensation.

I must have squeezed my eyes shut, too overcome with emotion, because I heard Brian's quiet, throaty voice demanding, "Look at me, Justin." I opened my eyes to see his perspiration-driven brow, his eyes staring down into mine, and his face etched in determined concentration as he began to piston in and out of me in a regular, sensual rhythm, his fingers gripping my thighs tightly, no doubt leaving impressions. At that moment, though, I wanted him to mark me, to brand me, to make him his. I wanted to be everything to him and to FEEL everything. My heart wanted to sing out that I loved him - for I now knew it was true - but I was still a little too afraid to admit it aloud for fear it would frighten him with the intensity of my feelings, so I bit down on my lip instead as he began to rock back and forth with me as he swooped down to kiss me senseless and we continued to make love, slowly and steadily.

* * *

Several minutes later, we lay side by side, my body half-draped over his with my head lying on his chest, much like that last time we had had together at the resort. I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my cheek as we both tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. My arm was draped around his waist as he lightly played with my hair at the back of my neck, his own chin planted on top of my head. He cradled me firmly to him, his body warm and so familiar, even after our time apart. At that moment, I felt so secure and cherished and yes, even loved, even though I knew he would not say it, at least not yet. Perhaps from what little he had told me he might NEVER say it, at least aloud. But I still knew; somehow I knew his feelings reciprocated mine, and for now that was enough for me.

Much too soon, we knew we couldn't stay here; the sun was rapidly setting below the horizon and it was getting quite dark where we were in the cave. So with great reluctance on both our parts, we stood up and got dressed to exit our temporary love nest.

Several minutes later, we found ourselves back at Brian's bike, both of us taking a moment to gaze out onto the placid water below. There was no one there now; just the two of us. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because as I looked into his eyes, he was the only one I could see.

"Ready to go?" he asked me softly as I nodded.

I was assuming he was taking me straight back to my dorm room, but he surprised me.

"I'd like you to come back with me to my loft," he told me almost shyly as if he were afraid I would refuse. "Would you like to see it?"

I smiled as he smiled back at me. "Yes," I reassured him, my heart singing now and feeling decidedly lighter. "And my new studio, too," I added solemnly as he chuckled.

"As you wish, Gidget," he told me as we hopped onto his bike. My arms securely around his waist a few seconds later, we sped off toward the beginning of our new lives.


	17. I Wanna Make it with You

_Concluding Chapter! The boys have been together for several months now. Justin decides it's time to come clean to his parents about his and Brian's relationship. How will they react?_

* * *

_Eight Months Later - .Justin's POV_

"Oh, my God! I've been waiting for you to get here!" Cynthia gushed at me as I popped my head into her office and walked on in, carrying a latte in one hand and a bag with a couple of cheese Danish in the other. I smiled broadly at her as I set the coffee down and reached inside the bag to snag one of the pastries, placing it on a napkin on her desk with a flourish as I took the other one out to start munching on it.

"Thank you, Justin, you're a lifesaver - in more ways than one!" she told me as she bit into the Danish and moaned her appreciation. I grinned; since having been introduced to Brian's assistant, we had quickly bonded over our love of lattes from the local coffee shop down the street and the outrageously sinful, daily-homemade cheese Danishes they served. Brian had rolled his eyes and groaned as I began a weekly ritual of bringing in extras for his assistant, feeling distinctly like he was being conspired against, but I just ignored him. Besides, I knew the right ways to keep my man happy, and I also knew him well enough to realize that he was merely acting affronted.

"You're welcome," I told her with a smile in between bites. "Speaking of which, how IS Brian today? I wasn't able to come over to the loft last night."

She nodded as she took a sip of her coffee and put it down. "So _that's_ why he's such a tyrant today! I should have guessed," she groused with an 'aha' sort of look as I laughed at her pained expression.

"Want me to go soothe the savage beast for you?"

"Please! But it will have to wait a while; he's in a closed-door, satellite meeting with an important client on the phone. It'll probably take about an hour. But don't forget, though! At least then the rest of the day will go a lot more smoothly for the REST of us."

I grinned with a nod as I turned to go. "I'll make sure I do that. In the meantime, I'll be in the studio painting." She nodded, but just before I could leave, however, she called out to me. "By the way, how could I almost forget? Thank you for my birthday present! It's absolutely lovely, Justin. I have it hanging over my bed at home in case I find my OWN savage beast to tame. You are just too amazing," she told me sincerely.

I blushed at the compliment as I stood near the door. "You're welcome," I told her shyly. I had found out how much Cynthia adored horses through one of our morning conversations, and how she even had one being boarded at a nearby stable. A few weeks ago, I had driven to the stables secretly to do some preliminary sketches of her horse, and had gifted her with a painting featuring the palomino galloping on the beach, water and sand flying up at its hoofs with the sun setting in the background. I had asked Brian to leave it for her yesterday at her desk as a surprise after I had left.

"Now go make the day AFTER my birthday just as nice and take care of whatever is ailing the Big, Bad Wolf."

I grinned. "I'll do my best."

* * *

_One Hour Later..._

Still wearing my old, frequently stained, oversized shirt to protect me against paint smudges, I walked carefully up to Brian's office, delighted to see that his door was slightly ajar, just enough for me to peek through the crack to observe him working alone on his laptop and not on the phone anymore; apparently his important conference call had ended. He had lately been placing his laptop on top of the credenza behind his desk so he could take periodic breaks to look out onto the ocean after I had chided him about not taking advantage of the million-dollar view. It also provided me with a way to hopefully sneak up on my 'beast.'

I pulled the small, plastic card out of my pocket that Brian had made up just for us - to my mortification, but it DID work - and hung it quietly over the outside door knob before cracking the door open a little wider, satisfied that Brian hadn't heard me coming in.

I had gotten fairly stealthy lately with the new, soft-soled loafers that I had purchased - having procured some extra spending money by selling casual sketches of friends and schoolmates at the Academy - but as I turned to close the door and lock it, I groaned inwardly at the soft click as the mechanism engaged. Fortunately, Brian had some sort of jazz music playing on the built-in stereo speakers, and didn't move from whatever he was concentrating on.

I smiled over my apparent success as I tiptoed over toward his chair. I was pleased that Brian was wearing the deep rust-colored, satin dress shirt that I had picked out for him the last time we had gone shopping together; well, he shopped while I 'window-shopped.' But after seeing him wearing the shirt he had on right now - and how it accentuated his features and complimented his bronze skin-tone so well - I knew he had to buy it. It had taken my own special way of 'persuading him' - a quick blow job in the private dressing room of the Gucci store at Beverly Hills - but I had managed to 'talk him' into it.

Smiling, I bypassed the part of the floor where I knew it creaked until I was close enough to smell Brian's expensive cologne and a sundry mixture of cigarettes, Beam, and his shampoo. It was always such an intoxicating combination of scents, heightened by those crazy pheromones that always made me instantly hard just looking at him.

Slowly, ever so slowly I held my breath as I crept to within inches of him. I was about to slide my hands around from behind to rest, palms down, on his chest, when all of sudden I jumped as I heard Brian say, "About time you got here. I've been hard since the moment I got your email. There'd better be that sign on the door, young man."

I rolled my eyes and grinned, thinking back to earlier this morning when I told him how much I had missed waking up with him, and how odd it had felt not to be with him last night fucking our brains out instead of helping Liam cram for our Art History test this morning. As soon as that was over, however, and I had purchased Cynthia's coffee and Danish, I had hurried over here to make up for lost time.

Not worrying about being quiet now, I slid my hands over the muscled shoulder blades and down Brian's chest to link them together as I nuzzled his neck with my lips and inhaled deeply; that, of course, just made me even harder. Brian twisted his head so our lips met for a deep kiss before we finally broke off long enough for me to announce in (hopefully) my sexiest voice, "Brian, I've been painting and I'm feeling really, really dirty. Think you can figure out a way to help me with that?"

He chuckled softly as I released him just long enough to allow him to rise from his leather chair and turn to face me, plastering another, toe-curling kiss on my mouth, our tongues battling for dominance as he pulled my body closer to him, his strong hands firmly latched onto my butt cheeks. I could feel his arousal clearly as he ground his hips against mine and a groan of desire escaped my lips.

"Looks like surf's up, Gidget," he quipped gutturally as he squeezed my cock briefly. I laughed over his cheesy line as he began to pull me toward the separate, private bathroom located directly off his office. When Brian had asked me if I needed any types of changes made to my studio space before I began working in it, I had suggested that perhaps a small bathroom with a shower for washing off the paint I always seemed to quickly accumulate on my skin and under my nails while working would be nice, but he had quickly put the kibosh on that deal, telling me that he wanted a reason for me to visit his office and to take advantage of the 'facilities' at hand. Since that day, we HAD taken advantage of it - over and over again. In fact, we were by now most likely the two cleanest/dirtiest people in all of LA.

* * *

Both of us still insatiably horny toward each other even after all these months of being together, Brian and I shed our clothing as we went along and were practically naked by the time we hit the shower door; a few minutes later, wet and soapy, Brian had me possessively pinned up against the frosted glass of the shower door, nipping at my ear playfully as he growled, "Looks like the surf is going to be rough today," signaling clearly his impatience. I eagerly nodded in understanding, knowing that Brian sometimes preferred a little less foreplay and a little more forcefulness, especially when we had to be apart. But I didn't mind; I enjoyed each and every time we fucked, as long as it was with the man that I, yes, loved - deeply and irrevocably.

His large, warm hands on my hips, I felt him remove one just before the recognizable tear of the condom wrapper. I gasped as I felt Brian's slickened finger pressing against my pucker, followed quickly by another one as I grunted at the intrusion. He stopped for just a second before I reached back to slap his thigh, my familiar signal to him to continue, before he crooked his fingers to reach my prostate...

"Uhhhhhh," I moaned out loudly as a bolt of pleasure shot through my body. "Brian..."

I felt the sting of his teeth biting down on my shoulder followed by his hot, wet tongue lapping over the mark as my head lolled back onto his shoulder and turned almost on automatic to receive another, deep kiss. I then felt just the tip of his cock pressing against me, before he lined himself up and pushed in about halfway, his lips roaming all over my upper back, neck, shoulders and cheek as he slid out slightly and then plunged roughly back in, both hands now back on my hips as we began to rock back and forth, Brian's legs slightly bent so our bodies perfectly curved at every line and angle as if we had been made for each other.

He gripped my hips tightly, his fingers splayed out across my pelvis, as I reached back with one hand to cup his jaw and receive another kiss, the palm of my other hand flat against the cold, smooth glass as we continued to make love.

We developed a steady movement as Brian picked up the pace; I could hear his breathing quickening with each down stroke as my body began to tingle from the force of his thrusts, my heart pounding in anticipation as he emitted moans in my ear, his breath warm as it ghosted over my cheek.

"Brian, ahhhhh," I groaned out as his right hand snaked around to begin stroking me in time with his thrusts, my own right cupped over his as I felt my impending release approaching.

"That's it," Brian demanded, his voice low and raspy as my body felt like it was on fire. He knew me so well by now that he realized I couldn't hold out much longer. "Yes," he hissed. "I...I can't...Justin, do it now, come for me!" he ordered me, just before every muscle in my body tensed and I exploded into our hands, warm and sticky, my seed spraying against the glass as it ran down to join the now lukewarm water below. A few more thrusts later, I clenched my muscles tightly against Brian's cock as he, too, came with a loud cry, falling against my smaller frame as we both leaned over the shower door to regain our strengths.

* * *

A few minutes later, Brian and I were back in his private suite, both of us reclining lengthways on his light-colored, leather couch. Brian was playing lazily with my hair, our hands both clasped across my waist. I figured my lover was as relaxed as he was going to be today, so it was now or never.

"Brian?" I called out softly as I felt his head rub my cheek.

"Yeah, Gidg?"

I smacked him on the arm as he chuckled, but I couldn't help smiling. I had actually grown quite fond of that crazy nickname; that is, if he kept his promise to only use it in private. So far, he had kept his word to me.

"I was wondering..."

"Uh, oh, I don't like the beginning to that sentence," he growled softly, but without any sting. "What?"

"We've been together for quite a while now..."

"Eight months, ten days, and..." I could almost see him peering over at his chrome wall clock as he added, "about 11 hours, give or take a few minutes."

I smiled. "Yeah, like I said, quite a while now." He laughed as I held my breath, not sure how he was going to take what I was about to say. "And since I'll be out of school in a week, I was hoping that...well..."

"Justin..."

Praying that I wasn't about to make Cynthia and the other employees' day worse, I twisted around in Brian's embrace so we were face to face, my legs resting in the 'V' of his lower body as I placed my hands on his shoulder blades. I took a deep breath. "I need to go back home to visit my parents and Molly. And...I was hoping that you would come with me."

Brian frowned; I could see the thought wheels turning in his head before he asked, "Why? They don't even know we're involved, Justin."

I fingered the satin of Brian's shirt collar as I lifted my eyes to stare into his. "I know," I whispered. "And that's the precise reason why we should."

He shook his head at me as he furrowed his brow. "You've lost me there."

I sighed. "Brian, I'm tired of walking on eggshells around my mom and dad. It's bad enough they think I'm staying over at the dorm every night, instead of normally being with you. And they don't know anything about you and me at all. They know I'm doing really well in school; in no small part thanks to the studio you created for me," I told him with a smile as he started to open his mouth to reply. I placed my fingers over his lips in a silent entreaty for him not to as I quickly added, "I don't like all this lying and sneaking around. I want to tell them. It's my life, and I think it's time it's all out in the open, don't you?"

Brian gazed at me tenderly, making my heart flutter, as he reached up to brush some hair back from my forehead. "Justin, you know I wanted all along to tell them. I don't think we have anything to hide. But what about your school? You won't let me help pay for it, and you always told me you wouldn't be surprised if your father refused to pay if he found out you and I were involved."

I shrugged. "Maybe he still might if he finds out; I don't know. There's only one way to find out. And if he does cut off all my money for school, well, then, I'll either get a part-time job in between hours or I'll work full-time and save up enough money to go back a year from now."

"No," Brian told me firmly. "I won't let you skip a year just because your father winds up being an asshole. You've already been helping me out on occasion when my Art Department fucks something up. Any other person would be compensated for that; you should as well. You can come work for me and get paid." He smirked. "Besides, where else would you find the fringe benefit that I'm offering you?"

I snorted as he grinned back at me, tongue-in-cheek. "Brian, I love you for offering," I told him sincerely. "But I told you..."

He sighed. "I know; you don't want to feel like I'm doing you any favors because you're fucking the boss."

I laughed. "Well, those weren't my exact words, but yeah, that's what I said." My face turned serious as I told him softly, "I will find a way to still go to school if it comes to that. But we'll never know if we don't face him and the consequences." I leaned down to peck his lips before I whispered to him, "Brian, I'm proud to be your boyfriend. I want everyone else to know it, too; including my parents. So will you go with me? I hear they have really good surfing there."

He chuckled. "Really? Now that's very tempting. Hot lifeguards, too?"

He squirmed and then burst out laughing as I reached down to tickle his waist where he was the touchiest. "I don't know - and you're not going to find out, either." I smiled at him, receiving one in return before I quit tormenting him and he grew more solemn.

"You really want to do this?" he asked me as he stared into my eyes. I nodded back at him as he finally nodded in return. "Okay, then, Gidg; when do you want to go? Before or after your father has had his heart medication?"

I grinned, pleased that he was agreeing to do it. Although I shouldn't have been surprised; Brian always HAD been upfront about who and what he was. He had just never had to deal with the likes of my father - at least not when it came to his only son. "Weekend after next for maybe a week? Can you get off?"

I groaned as I instantly realized what I had said as Brian arched one elegantly-appointed eyebrow at me. "You have to ask?" he snarked, tongue in cheek. "I think that can be arranged," he confirmed just before we met for another, more passionate kiss.

* * *

_One Week Later - Tortoise Beach Resort_

I looked around my family's resort as Brian and I pulled up near the entrance; the place looked virtually the same since the last time I had been here, which was around Christmas time. I had come home then alone for a few days during break to visit my parents and Molly, remembering being peppered with questions about how my school was going, what I liked about it, how I was getting along with my roommate, and if I had made any friends there. I was inundated with questions, in fact, and felt decidedly awkward not being able to just be truthful about Brian and me being involved. But at the time, I wasn't sure just yet if our newly-developed relationship would truly last - after all, it had just been a few months since we had reconciled - and my father had been kept preoccupied with all the guests checking in for the holiday, so I had finally decided it was prudent to just take a 'wait-and-see' approach before being upfront about the two of us.

Now, however, we had been together for several months, and I was confident enough in our relationship to want to share it with them. I was tired of feeling like I had to step on eggshells every time we spoke, afraid that I would divulge something that would make them realize I was not only seeing someone, but a person they had met earlier and wouldn't necessarily approve of due to the big age difference. I was resolved, however, to prove to them how wrong that was as the two of us emerged from the convertible.

"What do you want to do first?" Brian asked me as he walked up to my side, his medium-sized bag slung over his shoulder.

"Well, unless my father decided to rent out my suite, I'd say we go stow our bags there and go in search of my parents," I told him. "I want to get this over with so we can hopefully enjoy the rest of our time here without worrying about their reaction."

He nodded as he reached to take my hand. "You didn't tell them when you would get here?"

I shook my head. "No, I just told them it would be sometime today."

"And you're sure about this?"

I nodded firmly as I squeezed his hand as if to confirm it. Smiling at him, I told him, "Yeah, positive. If they can't accept it, then to hell with them. We'll just go back home."

"Home?" he asked softly as we stood there hand-in-hand. "Is that how you look at it now?"

I smiled. "Anywhere you are is home now, Brian."

One side of his mouth quirked up. "Aww, Gidg, you say the sweetest things," he told me in falsetto as I glared at him.

"What did I tell you, Kinney?"

He grinned. "Oops! Just slipped out, I guess. Must be because we're back in your old stomping ground."

"Yeah, well, don't let it happen again..._Moondoggie._" I giggled as his eyes grew large in horror.

"Tell me you just didn't call me Moondoggie."

I smiled at him brightly. "You're the one who bought me that DVD, remember? What did you think I would do with it?"

"Burn it?"

"Ha, Ha," I said, laughing at the pained expression on his face before I proceeded to heft my duffel bag and portfolio over my shoulder and began to steer him toward the private entrance leading to the family quarters.

* * *

Fortunately, just as I hoped my parents had not deactivated my key card to get into the side door, nor had they changed the code to my private suite. Brian and I deposited our bags in my room as I watched him walk over and pull open the sliding glass door heading out to the balcony. I grinned as I saw him immediately unbutton his shirt, exposing his beautiful, unflawed skin as he took a deep whiff of the salt air and smiled as if he were in Nirvana.

It wasn't as if he couldn't do the same thing back at Kinnetik; but somehow, here away from his office, it was different. As he stood there with his hands clasping the iron balcony railing, I walked up to slide my arms around his waist and pull him against my body, having to stand on tiptoe to rest my head on his shoulder. "Does it seem like a year has gone by?" I whispered in his ear. I could feel his smile against my skin as he turned to take me in his arms. The tender look on his face made my own face warm as he told me honestly, "In a way it does. A lot has changed since then. But I'll never forget the first day I spent here - and who I met."

My face flushed as he leaned down to kiss me briefly before we pulled back to stare into each other's eyes. "See that you don't, Mister," I mockingly scolded him. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere for a long time to come."

His face seemed to relax a little as he smiled at me and replied with surprisingly seriousness, "I hope not. Even if..."

"Brian, I told you," I replied a little gruffly. "Wherever your home is, so is mine."

"Justin, you can't tell me it wouldn't bother you if your parents disapprove of our relationship. Are you going to tell them about the car? Admitting that you started things out by lying about that isn't going to bode too well."

"You didn't ask me to lie," I pointed out. "That was solely MY decision."

"True," he conceded. "But it's still probably not going to go over very well either way."

I shrugged. "Maybe not. I already told you, though, that I would pay you back, and I mean it, Brian. It might take me a while, but I WILL find a way." I paused. "Let's just play this by ear."

He pecked my nose just for a second with his lips as he told me, "I know you have every intention of paying me back, Mr. Independent." I rolled my eyes. He sighed. "Okay. Whenever you're ready, I'll be there at your side, then."

I smiled in gratitude. "Good. Then I say let's get it over with. I don't want this hanging over our heads any longer than necessary."

He nodded, stealing one additional, quick kiss from me before steering me back into the suite with his arm around my shoulder. Stopping to button his shirt back up - figuring, no doubt, that Dear Old Dad would be more apt to accept him that way - we turned to head back out the suite door in search of my parents.

* * *

We searched in the most likely spots for them - knocking on their private suite door, checking the smaller dining room, walking around the lobby and back patio - but they seemed nowhere in sight. Finally determining from the front desk that my parents had left briefly to run into town on some sort of errand, Brian and I headed out toward the beach. I figured my partner would be itching to do some surfing, but to his credit he told me he would wait until after we had spoken to my parents, figuring that if they vehemently disapproved it might be a short visit.

So, instead, we chose to walk along the coastline, our flip flops swinging from our fingers as we walked hand-in-hand barefoot where the water met the sand. It was still a little early for the typical summer vacationers, so the beach was relatively empty.

My face lit up, however, as I spied my friend Emmett inside the surf shop as we walked by. "Brian, I have to talk with Emmett!" I cried out excitedly. He rolled his eyes at me in amusement, but nodded as we walked side-by-side toward the store.

As we entered together, the chime sounded over the door, alerting Emmett to a customer entering as he turned around; his eyes grew wide with shock as he spied me, standing next to another familiar man.

"Baby!" he squealed out in delight as he ran up and gave me a fierce hug. I felt myself being pulled apart from Em by the front of my shirt and against Brian's chest as Brian broke us up and tried to hide his jealous glare toward my friend.

Emmett glanced from my beaming face over to Brian's darker one and then back again as it clicked into place; I hadn't told him that Brian and I were together yet, either, but the arm slung possessively around my shoulder likely told him all he needed to know. "Oh, my God!" he sputtered, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You...and Big Boy here...you...the two of you are _together_?"

I giggled over the name Emmett chose for Brian as I nodded with a radiant smile on my face. "Yeah...Since around last August," I confirmed as Brian's hold on my shoulder tightened slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrugged. That was a good question; I'm not sure WHY I didn't tell him. Perhaps it was because despite his good intentions, Emmett tended to be a bit on the gossipy side and I didn't want to run the risk of my parents finding out. Instead of telling him that, though, and possibly hurting his feelings, instead I replied, "We wanted to get to know each other better first and make sure we could make it work before we told everyone."

Em clapped his hand over his mouth as tears sprung to his eyes.

"You look so good together," Emmett gushed emotionally, his voice cracking. "I'm so happy for you, Baby."

"Brother," I heard Brian mutter under his breath as I elbowed him briefly in the side of his waist in an attempt to get him to behave.

Em's face darkened slightly as he looked intently over at Brian. "You'd better be treating him right."

"Em..." I began cautiously.

Brian huffed. "Yeah, I beat him every night before we go to bed - and he fucking _loves _it."

"Brian!" I shook my head in irritation as Emmett frowned warily. "He's joking, Em!" I clarified. I glared up at Brian who shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Asshole," I growled back at him as he grinned. I turned back to Emmett to assure him, "He treats me very well, Em." I smiled up at Brian who rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly. "We're very happy together." I arched an eyebrow expectantly at my lover. "Aren't we, Moo..."

"Uh, yeah," Brian hastily replied before I could finish as I bestowed a shit-eating grin on him. "We're both happy as clams with a pearl stuck in our gut."

I harrumphed at the odd phrase. "Just ignore him, Em; he gets cranky when he goes for a long drive without any coffee..."

"...Or sex..."

"Brian!" I laughed as he grinned at me and my face turned red.

Em smiled then, satisfied that I was, indeed, happy to be with Brian. "So what brings you back home? School out for the summer?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we're here for a week."

Emmett nodded. "So what does your mom and dad think about the two of you?"

I shuffled a little uncomfortably on my feet as Brian squeezed my shoulder for support. "Uh, that's why we're here, actually. They don't know about the two of us, either."

"Ohhhhh," he said in realization as he eyed me sympathetically; that didn't exactly fill me with a sense of confidence, but it didn't matter. Either way I was going to tell them, no matter WHAT happened. "Is there anything I can do to help? Have a surfboard ready in case you need to whack your father over the head to knock some sense into him?"

I smiled at him fondly. "No, I'm hoping that won't be necessary, but thanks for the offer. Keep Brian's surfboard handy, though, along with another rental. The two of us want to come out and ride some waves later when it reaches high tide. In the meantime, we're going to go make some _other_ waves."

He grinned at me and nodded. "Good Luck, Baby," he told me as I nodded. I didn't see Emmett watching us walk back out, hand-in-hand, as his eyes filled with tears. Nor did I see the look of outright love on Brian's face as he studied me as we left.

* * *

_Fifteen Minutes Later_

"Justin!" A high-pitched squeal pierced the air as my sister spied Brian and me walking back up toward the back terrace of the resort. She quickly jumped up from her place at one of the patio tables to come rushing over to me as I swept her up into a tight hug. Despite our age differences, Molly and I were still brother and sister and still loved each other. After all, she had been pretty much a cheerleader for Brian and me from the start; a fact that made me appreciate her even more.

I smiled down at her as I loosened our hold. "Hey, Little Sister," I greeted her affectionately as I ruffled her strawberry-blond hair. "How are you? How was school this year?"

She scrunched up her face as she peered over at Brian curiously; he was standing next to me with his hand casually on my shoulder. "It was okay," she told me as she continued to study Brian intently, no doubt wondering what was going on. "Chemistry was cool, but algebra sucked."

I chuckled. "Well, at least it was only half bad." I glanced around. "Are you out here by yourself?"

She nodded. "Mom and Dad went into town to pick up some dining room supplies," she told me as nodded. She squinted her eyes at Brian. "What is HE doing here?"

"Well, good afternoon to you, too, Ms. Taylor," Brian quipped as Molly promptly stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed. "It's a pleasure to see you again, too."

"I didn't mean it THAT way," she told him stiffly. "I'm just surprised, that's all. What's going on, Justin?" she demanded, pulling no punches.

I glanced over at Brian as I suggested, "Let's go sit down." I motioned toward a table for six that was set off by itself and afforded us a little more privacy; something told me we might need that if my parents wound up joining us eventually.

Having secured some ice tea from one of the wait staff a few minutes later, I took a deep breath before forging on, deciding that Molly might be an accurate gauge of how my parents might react.

"I'm waiting," she said with her hands crossed over her chest; I noticed with slight amusement that she was wearing the dolphin necklace that Brian has gifted her with for her birthday. "Are you two together?" she pressed, immediately getting down to business as she gazed from me to Brian and back again as my face reddened. "You sure look like it to me," she decided.

I opened my mouth, about to tell her the truth, when I felt Brian's hand reach for mine across the table and squeeze it firmly as he continued to hold onto it. My heart skipped a beat, just like it always does whenever he touches me, as I noticed Molly's eyes widen in shock immediately before her lips curled up into a triumphant smile.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God!" she kept repeating as I blushed. "You ARE together!" she shrieked as everyone turned to stare over at us, wondering what was going on.

"Molly!" I tried to shush her with my free hand. "Not so loud!"

She rolled her eyes, but the smile never left her face. Was it that obvious to her how we felt? Perhaps it was. "Well, aren't you? He IS holding your hand," she perceptively pointed out a little more softly as she nodded her head toward our still-clasped hands.

"Yes," I heard Brian say beside me firmly before I had a chance to answer her. I glanced over at his face, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "We _are_ together. And I plan on keeping it that way."

I smiled back at him radiantly, my sentimental side unable to stop my eyes from tearing up slightly as he smiled over at me in return. I was so giddy over that statement that I felt like I was flying at the moment.

"That's great!" she cried out excitedly to my relief; that was one down at least. "You did good, Big Brother," she promptly decided as she glanced over at Brian, who was wearing a sleeveless, brown wifebeater, his aviator glasses, and a pair of well-loved, form-fitting jeans. "In case you hadn't noticed, he's hot."

Brian chortled as I huffed at her. "I think I figured that out," I told her wryly as Brian seemed to puff out his chest like a proud peacock. "Reel it back in, Hot Stuff," I snarked as he grinned over at me with that _I'm Hot and I Know It_ look that he sometimes gets whenever he receives a compliment - and that was quite often when it came to him. I sighed as I told my sister frankly, "Now all we have to do is get our Mom and Dad to agree with you."

"Oh, shit," Molly replied as Brian tittered over her reaction. "Yeah. You might get Mom to say okay, but Dad? You've got your work cut out for you there."

"Gee, thanks, Mol, for that vote of confidence," I deadpanned sarcastically as she shrugged. "That really helps."

"She's just being honest, Justin," Brian spoke up as she beamed over at him. "We knew it wasn't going to be that easy."

I let out an anxious breath as I spied my parents walking out to the patio from the resort's back entrance. "Well, it looks like we're about to find out, once and for all," I told him. I hastily withdrew my hand from Brian's - receiving a look of disappointment and perhaps a little disapproval - as I caught their eye. Both flashed an initial look of what appeared to be pleasure - followed by an expression of confusion and maybe suspicion - as they spied who I was sitting with as they both came shuffling over to greet us.

I stood up, along with Brian, as my parents walked over.

My mother, at least, had a big smile on her face, while my father's was impassive. I always did have problems reading his expression anyway.

"Justin! Honey, you look great!" my mother exclaimed as she embraced me firmly.

I smiled at her as we pulled back to look at each other; I could see my father staring curiously over at Brian as I replied, "Thanks, Mom."

"So how is school?" she asked in that always-polite way of hers.

"It's fine," I assured her as she nodded. I turned my head to accept my father's handshake. "Dad."

He nodded briefly at me. "Son. You look well."

I nodded. "I'm doing fine; more than fine, actually," I added.

My father then turned his attention to my companion. "Brian. _This_ is a surprise. What brings YOU back here? Wanting to do some more surfing? I'd be glad to set you back up in one of the guest suites - free of charge; that is, if you would help me out again with a little more advertising. That campaign you came up with for the gay market, especially, has more than paid for itself several times over! I know I was skeptical at first, but you've sold me on its benefits now."

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor," Brian told him as we all sat down at the table; my father waved over one of the waiters to request some more iced tea be brought to the table as Brian informed him, "I _would_ like to do some more surfing while I'm here, and I'll be happy to help you with any advertising questions you may have during my stay." He peered over at me as I nodded in encouragement before he added the kicker. "But I won't need to stay in one of the private guest suites. I already have a more than adequate room...with _Justin_."

I watched Molly's eyes widen in expectation as we all waited for that statement to sink in. We didn't have long to wait.

"What did you just say?" my mother asked, her mouth hanging open. I watched my father's face darken and his eyes narrow at Brian as I reached under the table to grip his hand tightly for support.

Brian took a deep breath and let it out. "I said, I'm staying with Justin in his suite."

"There's only one bed in that suite," my father pointed out.

Brian nodded as he responded without hesitation, "Yes, Sir, that's right."

I heard my mother gasp softly as my father's eyes honed in on me and then Brian.. "Let me get this straight. You...and my son are staying in the same room here together? Justin?" he rumbled in a low voice as his eyes bore into mine.

I let out a breath of my own, feeling Brian squeezing my hand under the table, as I nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Brian and I are together...in every sense of the word. We have been since last August."

"What the hell?" my father growled in astonishment. "Since August?" I nodded again. "How did this happen? He went back to his agency months ago! And you were in school; at least you were supposed to be!"

"I was," I told him resentfully. "You know that, too! You've seen my report cards! I'm on the Dean's List, remember?"

"Yeah," he conceded. "So you're still in school. I wonder how long THAT will last now? How did he seduce you, Justin?"

"Craig..."

My father held up his hand to stop my mother from speaking. "Answer the question, Justin! What did Kinney do to get you into his bed?" He winced as the image appeared in his mind. "I can't even believe I'm asking this."

I shook my head in disgust as both parents stared over at me. "I did NOT get 'seduced,' as you so eloquently put it. Brian didn't HAVE to seduce me, or do anything else. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He cares about me, just like I care about him."

My father eyed me skeptically. "Justin, you're what? Ten years younger than him? What would he want with a kid other than the obvious?"

"Craig..." Brian began.

"Don't _Craig_ me, Kinney! I want an honest answer."

"Okay, fine; have it your way," Brian interrupted in a clipped voice, clearly perturbed. "No, he's not ten years younger; he's twelve." My mom sucked in a breath at that revelation as he added, "And I don't want anything from Justin. We're in a relationship. All I want from him is what he wants to give me; nothing more, nothing less. That's what ALL relationships are like. Although I have to admit, the sex is fantastic, too."

My father cringed at that statement as I held my right hand over my mouth to keep from revealing the smile on my face; I couldn't help it, even in spite of the seriousness of the situation. That, and the fact that Brian had just told him we were in a _relationship. _I never thought that word sounded better than it did at that moment.

"I did NOT need to know that!" my father told him, seething. He sighed wearily as he looked over at me. "Justin, you're only 18."

"I'll be 19 in two weeks," I couldn't help pointing out. "Besides, that has nothing to do with it, Dad! I'm an adult now! And I want to be with Brian. There's nothing you can do about that."

"Oh, isn't there? What about your tuition? You do remember where that is coming from, don't you? What's more important to you, Justin - being with this...this MAN, or going to school at your precious art academy?"

"Craig..."

"No, Jen..."

"No, you listen to ME!" my mother growled then to my surprise; my father appeared shocked as well. "I want to say something." She glared at my father, her lips pressed together in determination, as he finally threw up his hands in resignation.

"Fine," he gritted out. "So say what you have to say."

She huffed in irritation. "I'm not saying I necessarily agree with your relationship," she told me and Brian. "But..." She turned to address my father as she added, "It's not right to punish Justin by taking his tuition away just because we don't happen to approve of him being with Brian. He's doing well in school, and he loves what he's doing! I won't let you do that to him, then, Craig. I own half of this resort. And I can do with my half as I please."

My eyes filled with tears of gratitude as she turned to address me. "Justin, I don't know if you are making the right decision here. And frankly, I'm not sure how wise it is for you to go to art school, either. As you know, I've always questioned the wisdom of doing that in order to financially support yourself down the road. But I can assure you that as long as you keep your grades up and your relationship with Brian here doesn't impact that, I will see that your tuition continues to be paid."

"Thanks, Mom," I murmured. "It won't," I reassured her as she nodded curtly back at me.

"That brings up another point, Jen," Craig maintained. "We're paying for you to room with Liam at the dorm. Has that been a lie, too, Justin? Are you and Brian living together?"

_Good question_. Technically, we weren't. But if I counted up the number of days I had spent the night with Brian versus how many nights I had been at the dorm, it would be decidedly lopsided. Truth be told, out of the past several months since Brian and I had reunited, I could probably count the number of nights I had spent at the dorm with Liam on one hand - or at the most, two hands. So how do I answer that question?

I swallowed before jumping in. We were here to tell my parents the truth; the _whole_ truth. "I have been spending some nights with Brian instead at his loft," I told them as my father shook his head in disgust. "Probably more than at the dorm. No, that's wrong," I quickly amended as I looked over at Brian, who dropped my hand to squeeze my thigh right above the knee. I could tell it wasn't sexual in nature, just a way to remind me that we were in this together, and it did help bolster my strength. "I have spent more time at Brian's loft than I have at the dorm. That's true."

My father waited until the waiter brought some more iced tea over and had left before he let out a deep breath of agitation. "I can't say I'm surprised. So why are we bothering to pay for a dorm room, then, Justin? We've wasted hundreds of dollars."

"I'm sorry about that," I told him. "But I want you to know the whole story here. I...I enjoy spending time with Brian. Do you know he's even set up a studio for me to use out of part of his office space? It' been a big help to me in getting my projects done."

"But that still doesn't justify..."

"Mrs. Taylor, Mr. Taylor," Brian spoke up authoritatively. "Neither one of you may think that Justin can actually make a living out of his art. But I'm here to tell you that he can. I have watched him sketch and draw numerous times now. He has a unique perspective on whatever he composes, and he can run rings around most members of my own art department. He's even helped me out of some major jams when my own employees have fu...messed up some promotional material, even though he won't ever accept any money from me for it."

Brian was right; I had vehemently refused to do that, especially after he had bought me my car. I figured that was the least that I could do as a way to partially pay him back.

"So let me put that to rest right now. If he won't come to work for me after he's out of school, I have plenty of contacts that would give their right arm to hire him - and for damn good money, I might add."

My father lifted an eyebrow in surprise; I thought I saw grudging acceptance of what Brian had said on his face, but I suspected that still didn't appease him regarding our personal relationship.

"I will pay you back for whatever you've invested in my dorm room," I reiterated.

"Well, that's fine and dandy, Justin. But what about the other three years? It's damn expensive to put you up in a room that you are rarely going to use. How are you going to be able to afford paying ALL that back?"

"Then he moves in with me permanently while he goes to school," Brian quietly interjected as I turned to stare over at him in shock. We had never discussed this formally, even though I spent a lot of time over there already. But even I knew the ramifications of making it 'official.' My heart fluttered at the thought as I asked him softly, "Brian, are you sure? You don't have to do that. I know you like having some space..." There were days when he would come home from a particularly stressful day at Kinnetik, grouchy and sullen, wanting nothing to do with me, at least until he had had a chance to go take a soak in the Jacuzzi out back or belt down a drink that I would prepare silently for him. Eventually, I could normally lift him out of his dark mood, but I knew during those moments that he simply wanted; no, _needed_, to be alone, and I honored those wishes.

He smiled over at me tenderly. "Yes, Justin. I'm sure. You might as well; you're over there more times than not anyway. Is that what you want, too?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling my parents' eyes on me as I nodded back at him and reached for his hand to grip it under the table. "Yes, you know I do," I whispered; for just a moment, I felt like we were the only two there as Brian leaned over and bestowed the lightest of kisses on my lips, bringing his other hand up to gently and lovingly stroke my cheek as I blushed.

My parents exchanged a look as Molly sighed at the romantic gesture. "You are so sweet together," she cooed dreamily as I smiled over at her in gratitude. Why couldn't my parents accept Brian and my relationship as easily as she did?

My father cleared his throat for attention as I fixed my eyes back on him. "Well, I don't necessarily approve of this relationship, Justin. I want to make that crystal clear. But if your mother insists on paying your tuition that is not covered by your scholarship, I have no way to stop her." He paused as he stared over at Brian. "Nor can I prevent you from shacking up with a man who is twelve years older than you. But I still don't like it; I want to make that clear. And I don't like the two of you flaunting your lifestyle in front of all the guests here."

My mouth opened in incredulity. "Flaunting our lifestyle? How are we flaunting our lifestyle? He kissed me, Dad, that's all! It's not like we're fucking in public!"

"Watch your language, young man!" my father roared as others around us peered over to see what the commotion was all about. Molly, to her credit, merely giggled in reaction to my statement as Brian winked at her. "I'm talking about the two of you staying in the same suite together."

I harrumphed angrily, my mouth partly open. "Well, unless you've installed see-through walls, I don't see how that's anyone else's business."

"It's not," my mother interjected as she reached over to grip my father's wrist. "While I'm still leery of this whole arrangement, also, I don't see the sense if you're already virtually living together in having you occupy two separate rooms. Besides," she added dryly, "something tells me you would just wind up together during the night anyway."

She sighed as she pushed back her chair to stand up. "Craig, I'm tired and it's way past lunchtime. Let's go get something to eat."

"But..."

"Just a minute, please, Mrs. Taylor," Brian suddenly said as he let go of my hand to wrap it around my shoulder instead. "There's one more thing I'd like to say to both of you first before you go."

My mother nodded after a few seconds as my father glared over at Brian warily, but remained in his chair.

"Yes, Brian?" she softly pressed.

Brian gazed over at me with such an open look of affection that my face warmed before he turned back to look over at my parents. "I just want you to know that Justin means a great deal to me. Yes, he's a lot younger than me. But in terms of maturity and intelligence, I can assure you that he is every bit my equal. And there's one more important piece of information that you need to know. I wasn't kidding when I said the sex was great earlier." My father groaned as Brian held up his hand defiantly. "Want to know the reason why, other than the fact that Justin is beautiful on the outside? He's the same way on the inside...and I happen to love him. And I think he feels the same way about me; at least I hope he does."

My eyes grew large and my mouth hung open as what Brian just said permeated into my brain as having actually been spoken aloud. "Brian? Did you just say that...?"

The right side of his mouth lifted as he rolled his eyes at me. "Yes, Gidget; I just said that I love you. The customary response to that is to tell me that you love me, too."

My face broke out into such a broad smile then that it threatened to crack my lips wide open. "Oh, shit," I murmured as Molly sighed again dreamily. "You do?"'

"Please don't make me say it aloud again, Justin."

I grinned. I realized I might not hear that particular phrase again for a long time - if at all. But for now, it was perfect. "I do," I told him as he looked at me in mock horror as if I were reciting a vow. I laughed at his expression. "I mean, I love you, too."

He nodded as we leaned in as one to share a brief kiss, Brian showing remarkable restraint, although I suspected that would change quickly once we were alone. I groaned as he squeezed my cock once through the denim of my jeans before letting it go, followed by a smirk.

I heard my father sigh as we pulled back and I merely peered over at him with a goofy smile on my face. I was a little surprised - but also relieved - to see my mother actually had tears in her eyes as she smiled wistfully back at me.

I nodded at her in silent thanks before she repeated, "Craig, time to go track down the chef for some lunch. Molly, have you eaten?"

She nodded at our mother. "Yeah, a little while ago. I want to stay here with Brian and Justin."

To my enormous relief, my mother shook her head. "No, young lady. Something tells me they want to be alone for a while. Besides, they mentioned something about surfing earlier, and I happen to know that you're afraid of the bigger waves."

"Mom," she whined in embarrassment as her face turned red. "Now Brian knows, too! Did you have to say it out loud?"

Brian chuckled. "Don't worry, Molly; your secret's safe with me. Maybe one day I can help teach you how to surf; would you like that?"

My sister's eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded. _Another Taylor succumbing to the Kinney charm_, I decided. "Yeah, that'd be great, Brian!" she told him as Brian nodded.

"Craig..." My mother's voice left no room for argument.

My father stared over at the two of us for a few more moments before he reluctantly stood up. "Kinney..."

Brian bit back a sigh. "Yeah?"

"If I hear that you're not taking good care of my son..."

"You'll have plenty of company," Brian told him. "You'll have to get in line behind Honeycutt."

My father nodded; knowing how much of a good friend Emmett had been to me. "Just remember that."

"I will," Brian solemnly replied as my parents turned to go.

I let out a deep sigh of relief as my parents reentered the resort, finally leaving us alone with my sister.

"Ms. Taylor, it's been a pleasure seeing you again," Brian told my sister as she giggled over his southern accent. "We really must do this again some time." He pushed back from his own seat and pulled mine back in a not-so-subtle invitation to join him. "But for now, your brother and I have some surfing to do. Right?"

I smiled at him and nodded as I stood up to join him, our hands coming together automatically. "Thanks, little sister," I told her softly. "Thanks for sticking up for us."

She nodded. "Just remember I get to be the maid of honor when you get married."

"Molly..." I moved to interrupt her as I heard a choking noise beside me. Brian looked horrified at that thought as I couldn't help laughing over his expression. "One thing at a time, okay?"

She nodded with a grin as we turned to head out toward the sand, the weather much like the first one a year ago when we had first met. Only now, I had a much better idea where our lives were heading.

"Brian?" I asked softly as we stopped midway between the resort and the water and he turned to face me, taking both hands in mine.

"Yeah, Gidg?"

I snorted as he rolled his lips under mischievously. "About what you said earlier..."

"What about it?"

"Did you mean it?"

I could see the answer on his face before he actually said the words, and my heart leaped with joy. "Yeah, Justin, I meant it. Every fucking word."

I nodded as he pulled me against him for another kiss; this one was much more erotic and intense than the others back up on the patio.

My mouth tingled as we broke apart with a decided popping sound and I grinned back at him smugly.

He rolled his eyes as he crooked one arm around my head at the elbow. "Don't let it go to your head," he growled in my ear as he took his other hand and briefly squeezed my hard-on. "At least not THAT head."

I moaned softly at the contact before he let go of me. "Now come on, Gidget. I see a lot of big waves coming up. Let's do some riding!"


End file.
